


Wayne's Boys 3: Jason and the Argonauts

by KatHarkness_Katara



Series: Wayne's Boys [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Legion of Super Heroes - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 24,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatHarkness_Katara/pseuds/KatHarkness_Katara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new routine is starting up, and everyone seems to be finding their own groups, except Dick. Poor Nightwing. What's he going to do, but invite his old friends over to revel in old times, and commiserate about new ones? No way that can go wrong...right? Follows on from Family Ties. No slash; rated for language and violent themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kick-Off

**Author's Note:**

> Last time on Wayne's Boys: Bruce settled down with Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Cass, and Dick and Babs and Tim and Steph maintain steady relationships while all eight run around Gotham, righting wrongs and kicking bad-guy butt. An investigation into new kid on the block Huntress reveals her to be an extra-dimensional daughter of Bruce and Selina, prompting Bruce to adopt her into the family.
> 
> As everyone liked the "everyday" adventures in the last arc, I'll be flipping between the main storyline (starting here) and extra mini-adventures. For this reason, please pay attention to the dates heading each chapter.

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 1 Kick-Off**

_Friday, 12_ _th_ _December_

Dick was bored. He raised one hand, balancing upside down on a fixed trapeze with just his left. His right swept back, releasing the trapeze, sending him swinging forward. He turned it into a triple flip and hooked his knees onto the next trapeze. Then he sighed. Still bored. "Hey, Tim?"

"Hmm?" The boy, technically on spotting duty (really, Bruce didn't trust him not to fall?), didn't look up from his microcomputer. Bruce had taken it back after his fingers healed enough for him to use a normal keyboard. He'd then sulked for a week until Bruce had returned it. The fourteen-year-old and his gadget were now inseparable.

"D'you want to go out with me tonight?" the acrobat asked, closing his eyes to enjoy the slight swaying effect of the trapeze.

Tim made an odd strangled sound. "Have you discussed that with Babs?" Dick snapped his eyes open, bunching his eyebrows together at the strange look being sent his way. "I mean, I never thought I was your type," the younger boy continued. "And, sorry, but you're not really mine. I'm quite happy with Steph. And the incest thing; does it apply in adoption?"

Dick swung away, landing in a handspring on a half-height platform and back-somersaulting to the floor as he attempted not to fall in an undignified heap. "Tim, I meant _patrol_ , not a _date_ , and-" the teen's smirk cut him off. "And you knew that, you devious little-!"

Tim was clearly deriving far too much pleasure from the deliberate 'misunderstanding', but wilted slightly under Dick's disappointed gaze. "Sorry, sorry, okay?" he said. "Yeah, I know what you meant. I have a Titans meeting this evening…" His voice tailed off, muttering something about the League's teleporters.

"Is _everyone_ off with teams today?" Dick groaned. "Bruce was planning to take Damian along to the League meeting, Cass is doing something with the Outsiders, Jason's touching home-base with his contacts, Babs and Helena are chatting with Black Canary about forming their own group…Everyone's busy."

"Erm…Steph's coming with me?" Tim offered weakly.

Dick collapsed against the wall next to Tim. "I'm. Bored," he complained. "Haven't heard a peep from any of the Arkhamites for a more than a month. Gangs are quiet. No mysterious murders or thefts or anything. What's there to do?"

"You're _upset_ that things are quiet?" Tim asked.

" _Frustrated_ ," Dick corrected.

"Well, just have a nice long patrol and burn off the excess energy," Tim said, rolling his eyes.

Dick grunted. Tim was right; he was just so worn down by the monotony. Not even his studies at college offered much distraction; a serious downside to studying a subject he'd pretty much mastered by his twelfth birthday. Perhaps a new language? He'd been teaching Helena Romani lately, but she wasn't around…

"Yeah, I'll go prepare for patrol," he decided, rising to his feet.

Before he could go more than two steps, Bruce looked through the door. "Dick, there you are," he said. "You can take the night off. Barbara wants to give her group the run of the city." He disappeared before Dick could protest.

Dick fixed the now quietly-giggling Tim with a glare. "Life," he decided, "sucks."

* * *

Another place.

Another _time_.

They could not be found. If they were found, they would be disbanded. And that would break them all.

It was generally easy. As technology advanced, so did they. Cameras fooled with distortion fields. Eyes-in-the-sky bamboozled with stealth training. Keeping the secret, keeping going.

But now there were some new kids on the block. New kids with new talents and new priorities and thus a new threats. Which led to new schemes and new contingency protocols. There were even plans to turn their discovery to their advantage, not just damage control.

And it seemed those plans were about to be enacted.

The girl _ran_ , desperate. Usually she was the predator, now she was the prey. Her pursuers were hot on her heels. She bobbed and weaved; sprinted and slid into shadow. It was futile. She could not outrun them; they were too fast. Nor could she hide. For all her skill at stealth (and that was her speciality), her opponents had the edge there as well. It was only a matter of time before they caught her.

And when they did, she'd lose everything.

But that was no reason to roll over and yield. One of the many principles drilled into her all her life was that of no surrender. Her people simply weren't the kind to allow anything to curtail their business until they'd taken every option.

Which would make her run until cornered, and when cornered, fight until overwhelmed. The greater the attention she brought to the pursuit and eventual combat, the more warning her people would get. It was just a matter of balancing the warning she'd give with revealing her existence to the world in general.

She ducked into a long dark shadow, pulled her black cape close around her, and reversed course. She twisted through the darkness, hoping she'd lost pursuers, but knowing it couldn't last long. All too soon, she emerged into the light, and ran for the next shadow.

The process repeated several times over, until finally she ran into someone. She staggered back, regaining her footing in an instant. She turned, and collided with another of her pursuers who'd seemingly come out of thin air.

She twisted, trying to get away, but more of her predators arrived and boxed her in. A pair of nunchuks found their way into her hands, and moved in a swirl of force and velocity, smacking soundly into the first one who'd stopped her. That one flew back, but the second was out of range for the rebound. She tried to advance, but a third attacker grabbed her, pulled her back and tried to get her in a lock.

Several minutes, some intense struggling, a couple of injuries and one lucky blow later, she slipped free. But two steps later, a massive pressure pushed her down, focusing on her hands, feet and waist. She twisted and struggled, but could not free herself.

"Stop struggling," a voice instructed, and she looked up to see the leader of her opponents, flanked by his two seconds-in-command. "You'll only hurt yourself."

The girl pulled once more, deliberately wrenching the shoulder she'd dislocated minutes before. Pain blossomed throughout her system; and rather than supressing it, as was standard, she focused on it, until her entire mind was filled with the agony, except for a small slit of consciousness though which she could see her captors. "Let me go," she demanded.

"Not after what you've done," the male second said and knelt next to her. He dug his fingers under her mask, and the security system kicked in. Electric sparks flew, and the female second winced, before the mask came away, baring the girl's bluish eyes. She ducked her head, her wealth of long black hair pooling around her shoulders. The leader sucked in a breath.

"How old _are_ you?" he asked. "Sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Old enough," she retorted. The leader and seconds exchanged glances.

"If you come with us, be one of us, we'll forget everything," he offered. "Stop what you're doing. There's so much good you could be doing."

The girl considered for the briefest moment. This was what the contingency plans led to; to give her people the best chance. "Okay."

The leader smiled. "Excellent. What's your name?"

The pressure vanished and she forced herself upright. "Huntress."


	2. Six at School

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 2 Six at School**

_Friday, 7_ _th_ _November 2014_

Friday was Tim's favourite school day. Afternoon classes were replaced with sport and gym for the entire high school cohort of Gotham Academy, the teachers taking a break from history and math to teach their favourite sports. Tim and the others had to cut lunch short a little in order to change into gym kit in private, with no-one ogling their scars. But Tim did get to spend time with Steph, seeing as Ms Hopkins the English/Drama teacher took a gymnastics class for both genders.

That was one sport they never had to worry about over-performing in. After all, it _was_ fairly well known that there was a formerly pro acrobat in the family. That was the main reason Jason and Cass joined. They'd been teasing Helena about what they could get away with all week.

It was just a pity normal sport had been cancelled.

"Okay, darlings," Ms Hopkins simpered to the large group of 14-18 year olds in the largest hall. "As you know, the Christmas show will be coming up in less than two months, and wouldn't it be splendid if we did a performance of the Greek classics?" She clapped her hands in excitement. "In interpretive dance!"

Groans filled the hall. "Is it too late to rethink this whole adoption thing?" Helena muttered.

"We could pretend to be sick?" Steph said desperately.

"Can't afford to waste the excuse," Tim moaned. Plus Bruce would be _furious_ when he caught on.

"Now, now, this'll be fun!" Ms Hopkins said delightedly. "I have the names of a few people I think will be excellent from my drama and gymnastics classes."

"Oh sh-" Jason breathed, before Tim cut him off with an elbow to the ribs.

"I will read out the names," the madwoman taking centre stage continued, brandishing a piece of paper. "And they will take to the stage and show everyone how it's done." She cleared her throat. "Timothy Drake-Wayne!"

Tim felt panic descend. _If only_ they could quit school for full time crime fighting. _Anything_ to escape interpretive dance. He'd fake continued finger injury if he thought Ms Hopkins would buy it. "I'm not here!" he hissed, trying to hide behind Jason.

"You're not getting out of it that easily," Jason said with an audible smirk. He turned and grabbed Tim's left arm before he could squirm through the crowd. Catching Jason's drift, Cass seized his other arm, and between them they dragged Tim towards the stage.

"I _will_ tell Dick, and he _will_ hug you to death," Tim hissed angrily, knowing that it would take more skill than he could afford to reveal he had to escape his siblings.

"No you won't," Jason replied quietly but with the utmost confidence. "If you do, you'll be admitting it happened, and with the footage I'm gonna get…"

"You wouldn't."

"And just think who Dickie-bird would send it to," Jason continued smugly.

"Fine," Tim capitulated reluctantly. "But we've all agreed. _This never happened._ "

He heard giggles from behind him, and guessed Steph and Helena were trailing along in their wake. "Besides, I can guess at least three other names on that list. Now get off, Jay, Cass."

The older two released him, allowing him to walk unaided onto the stage.

"Excellent," Ms Hopkins bubbled. "Now, I will read out this narration, and you will express it as dance. Off you go then. 'I shelter from the cold as the night wind howls around me'…"

Tim started with the gesture for 'shelter' in their speechless language, madly exaggerating it for the benefit of his audience. Moving into an equally exaggerated 'protect', he flowed with the grace he'd learnt for roof-running and martial arts. For each sentence the teacher gave, he translated and broadcast it as gracefully as possible.

"Fabulous, my dear, simply fabulous!" Ms Hopkins cried as he finished. Now let's see what your brother can do.

Tim hopped off the stage, and was caught by Jason. "How did you _do_ that?" he hissed.

"It's just shouting in gestural," Tim whispered, palming Jason's camera phone. Revenge time.

Jason's performance was short, sharp and just a little heavy-handed – quite like his fighting style. Cass was up next, and likewise mimicked her fighting on being precise and beautifully efficient. Except she'd chosen to use micro-gestures to elaborate on just how little she thought of the poem she danced to.

"Excellent, simply fantastic. Thank you, you three. Now, everyone, split into groups and try those dances."

"That was hell," Jason murmured as the five congregated to one side. "Who'd have thought _interpretive dance_ would turn out to be one of our skills?"

" _There_ you are; I thought you'd all be together," the annoyingly cheerful voice came. They all turned to see the thrice-cursed Drama teacher, beaming brightly. "Now, Stephanie, it's your turn next, and then, ah…" she faltered.

"Helena, Mrs Hopkins," Helena supplied, deliberately giving the wrong title.

"Um, yes, of course," she said, wilting slightly.

Steph and Helena's performances were judged to be more than satisfactory in short order.

"I think I have just the thing for you, but we need one more," Ms Hopkins said pensively. "Someone you'll work well with."

A crafty thought occurred to Tim. "Cass, why don't you get Damian?"

"Fabulous!"

Damian arrived, and was put through his paces, less reluctantly after seeing Cass' recorded performance. His interpretation involved how much he wanted to beat up Ms Hopkins, kill Tim and Cass, and utterly destroy anyone who told Dick.

"Perfect!" the teacher exclaimed. "We just need a narrator, but that won't be a problem. _You_ will perform Oedipus!"

"Please, no…" Tim moaned.


	3. Disappointments

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 3 Disappointments**

_Friday, 12_ _th_ _December 2014_

The punching bag flew across the cave. Dick's temper did not improve. Being benched just when he needed to _get out_ and _do something_ was just so unbelievably frustrating. It was even worse than an injury benching; at least there was some sense to that.

Morosely, he retrieved the punching bag. The seam had split, guaranteeing Bruce would be irritated, but it was only a punching bag. If it was anything (anyone) else, Bruce would be _furious_.

Dick flung himself into the chair and stared at the Batcomputer's screen. He stuck his foot out and pushed on one of the desk legs. He spun himself around several times before catching himself. Now he was bored, frustrated _and_ dizzy.

The roar of a motorbike approached. Eager for a distraction, Dick whirled around, sprang up, felt his head spin, wobbled, and righted himself before he could faceplant on the cold hard floor. "Steph!" he exclaimed. "Come to see your surrogate big bro?"

"Smooth," Spoiler chuckled. "I hear you're got boredom issues and propositioned my boyfriend." Dismounting, she wagged her finger at him. "Naughty, naughty."

"I think I need to prank Tim," Dick said grumpily. "Any ideas?"

"I dunno. Put a picture of your bits as his micro's desktop or something," Spoiler suggested, jokingly.

"Great idea, thanks Steph," Dick perked up. Getting the micro would be the really hard bit, but he might be able to get Babs to put in a program that would delay when the new desktop appeared…plus, the pun was _hilarious_. "You are a genius."

"Why's Steph a genius?" Tim asked, appearing at the top of the stairs, engrossed in his micro. "I mean, not that she isn't, but what's brought it on this time?"

"You'll see," Dick chirped.

"Right," Tim said distractedly. "Figured out what you're doing tonight, then?"

Dick wilted. "What's there _to_ do?" he asked rhetorically. "I'm benched, 'member?"

"Learn Flemish?" Tim suggested. "Why don't you try acting like a normal person? Watch a movie or something."

"That's only fun when Cass is adding subtitles for what the actors really think," Dick noted.

"Play video games, help Alfred bake, call a friend, _something_." Tim sighed. "Steph and I have to go. Babe?"

"Later, Dick," Spoiler waved, stepping on the teleport with Tim. They vanished.

"Something normal," Dick thought aloud. "What do normal people do?"

* * *

_Elsewhen_

Huntress pounded the punching bag. Right, left, right, left, side kick, left elbow, spin, left, right, knee. She had never been fitter. Never been more capable. Never been more driven.

Never been more _useless_.

It had long been believed that there were two essentials in the business: ability and drive. It was possible to manage with only one or the other, but the result would be short or lacklustre career. And merely inheriting a position did not supply drive.

Well, she had drive aplenty now.

They'd always known that they wouldn't be able to hide from the new kids. Well, they _could_ , but only by completely ceasing operations.

Batman Incorporated did _not_ roll over and die. Not on the cards.

Huntress was now insinuated deep in the heart of their rivals. Nothing wrong with the newbies, but they supported and were supported by the people who most wanted to shut them down. Bad luck, kiddies; Bats don't do losing.

They'd made up a contingency plan. Whoever the new kids found first, that person would enact the plan. They would get in with their rivals, and rewire their computer systems to go through B Inc's system. They would explain their work to the others, so that if B Inc was exposed, they'd at least be sympathetic. But they may never be free to see the family again.

Huntress was unlucky to be the one. Her new 'friends' firmly believed her incapable. They'd deny it, but it was true. She was nothing more than a pet, right when she'd truly become Huntress.


	4. Moving On

* * *

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 4 Moving On**

_Saturday, 8_ _th_ _November 2014_

It was only a week and a half since Helena had found her new home, and the wariness she'd long harboured had yet to wear off. But the lease on her small East End apartment was almost up, and she wasn't going to need it any more. Time to move out.

There wasn't a whole lot there anyway. It was a workplace. She had files, and research, her 'professional' computer, her gear and disguises. Beyond that, it was a place to sleep if she crashed out after patrol, clean up, and get a bite to eat.

"How long do you think this will take?" Dick asked, parking the largest not-flashy car in the Wayne fleet outside the block.

"Depends how fast you pack crates," Helena shrugged, popping the trunk and pulling out a suitcase full of collapsible crates. Dick grabbed a cool box and followed her into the building.

"What are you doing with your other place?" he asked. "I take it you're not losing it as well?"

"Bruce offered to buy it outright," Helena answered. "I think I'll take him up on it. Just hope he doesn't go overboard."

"Buy the whole block and put it in your name so you get a steady income from the other tenants? Yeah, he'll probably do that." Dick grinned. "He did that when _I_ got my apartment, and I think also with Cass, and Jason's."

"Tim and Damian don't have their own places?"

"Dami doesn't, but he probably will in a few years. Tim inherited some property from his parents. Drake Manor's rented out, but he's still got the city apartment for himself."

"And Bruce _didn't_ buy him the block?"

"He wanted to, but Tim convinced him to investigate the continued structural viability of the Bunker instead." Dick shrugged. "Tim had to prove he could maintain the apartment from his house's rent. He keeps his property finances completely separate from everything Wayne."

"So he's got a safety net if the accounts are seized," Helena mused, unlocking her front door. "What's this about a bunker?"

"The Bunker was an old secondary base Bruce and I made," Dick explained. "It was damaged in the quake. Dami and I tried to remodel it when I was Batman, but it's more trouble than it's worth. We built the Secret Annexe instead. I think Bruce is having the Bunker blocked off during the Secret Annexe refurbishment."

"You'll have to tell me all about it later," Helena nodded, pulling the crates out of the suitcase and putting them on the lounge coffee table. "Can you get the books and files in here, and the stuff in the kitchen?"

"Sure," he nodded, reassembling the first crate.

Helena left him to it. She entered the bedroom and set the suitcase on the bed. She didn't have much to pack. There were several sets of normal clothes, but mostly disguises. A modest variety, from 'Holly Walker's' hot hooker look, to vagrant's rags, to a burka. These filled up just over half the suitcase, followed by various dyes, coloured contacts, and stage makeup. Then a quick pop into the bathroom to gather her towels and toiletries.

Returning, she moved the suitcase to the dressing table and stripped the bed. Squashing the bedclothes into the suitcase, she sealed it up and retrieved a box from under the bed.

"Helena, is it just the one plate, bowl, cup, set of cutlery you have?" Dick asked, entering the bedroom. "Hey, what's that?"

"Yeah; I don't entertain here," Helena shrugged, opening the box.

"That your old costume?" Dick asked, looking at the red and green Robin suit.

"Yup," Helena nodded. "Took after Mom. You know, rob from the rich, give to the poor. Robin Hood."

"My mom said I flit around like a little bird, a little robin," Dick murmured. He came around and wrapped her in a hug. "I miss her and Dad every day. Bruce is wonderful, and I love him to bits, but it's not the same." He took a deep breath, and sighed. "I hope they'd be proud of me, but I know they wouldn't begrudge letting me move on. If your dad's anything like Bruce, he'd be the same."

"I know that in my head, but sometimes it's so far from my heart," Helena whispered, and slumped into Dick's embrace as she mourned all she'd lost.


	5. The Game

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 5 The Game**

_Friday, 12th December 2014_

"Okay," Dick started. "I'll be one, Donna two, Wally three, Garth four, Roy five, and six is roll again."

"Why am I always five?" Roy complained.

"Because it amuses me to hear you whine," Dick answered, rolling his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a normal six-sided die bouncing across the circle. "Wally, you're up."

The speedster snatched up the cube and sent it spinning. It landed on two. "Donna, truth or dare?" Wally grinned.

"I'll start it safe. Truth," the Amazon answered.

"No such thing as safe in truth or dare," Wally smirked. "Have you ever fancied any of us four?"

"Oh, yeah, all of you at one time or another," Donna shrugged. "Never anything terribly serious, or long lasting. But you're all reasonably attractive, all well able to hold your own in a fight, all got a strong sense of right and wrong, all know how to treat a woman right. I was never really in love with any of you, but there were moments when I wanted to be."

"Only reasonably attractive?" Dick teased.

"You've just too scarred," Donna smirked. She rolled the die. "Wally. Truth or dare?"

"Ooh, dare."

"Paint your Flash symbol on the giant globe at the Daily Planet."

Dick snickered. "Clark'll be furious."

"We'll see about that," Wally smirked. He vanished, and reappeared about a minute later.

Dick pulled over a laptop he'd left nearby. "Let's have a look," he said. The satellite image program was already open – there'd been enough games in Titans Tower for him to know it would be a good idea. It didn't take long to zero in on Metropolis.

"You didn't," he said, horrified.

"What?" Roy asked, coming over to look. His laughter quickly brought the other former Titans.

"I said _Flash_ symbol, not _Bat_ symbol," Donna chuckled.

"I did. It's right there." Wally pointed at the left ear, where a tiny speck of white and yellow could just about be seen.

"That's just cruel," Dick pouted.

"Laugh it up, former Boy Wonder," Wally snarked, rolling the die. "Roy. Truth or dare?"

"What the hell. Dare."

"Okay. I dare you to call Clark, and ask him how he likes the Planet's new paint job." Wally sat back, grinning.

"You know it'll seem like I'm gloating," Roy said rhetorically. "He might try to sic Ollie on me." He grinned. "Let 'im try." He pulled out his phone and dialled the number. "Hey, Clark? Quick question. How d'you like the Planet's new paint job? Oh, nothing. Say hi to Ollie for me." He hung up. "Who's next to be doomed?"

"Your roll," Garth told him, passing the die.

"Right." Roy sent the small cube flying, and cursed when it came up six. He rolled again, getting a single dot. "Dick," he grinned.

"After what _someone_ did in Metropolis, I think I'll have to keep a low profile. Truth."

"Damn, and I had a great dare for you," Roy grumbled. "Okay. Just why are you so wound up about being benched tonight?"

Dick cocked his head and frowned. It was a good question. "I guess it's because I know I _could_ be doing something to help but I'm stuck at home. It just takes one night off for a disaster to happen, you know. I mean, boredom is a factor, but so is frustration, and concern."

"You lot take everything so personally," Donna commented.

"It's the way we live," Dick said simply. "We _have_ to put everything in, or we just couldn't do it. Pass the die." It clattered across the floor. "Garth. What's your peril?"

"Dare," the Atlantean decided.

"Right." Dick sat up a little straighter. "You know the large fountain in front of the manor? It's got goldfish. I dare you to have a conversation with them, and find out their favourite food."

"Sounds easy," Garth shrugged. He rose, and left the room.

Dick quickly grabbed the laptop again and accessed the manor's security cameras.

"Did you know the fountain was frozen over?" Donna asked mildly.

"Jay and Dami were experimenting with one of Freeze's guns," Dick shrugged. "It's okay; look. They left an icepick."

On screen, Garth bashed a hole in the ice, made a clear area, and stuck his head underwater. After a few minutes, he went back inside.

"They have only ever had one type of food, and it is adequate," he announced, reaching for the die.

The dares flew thick and fast after that. Roy had to get Wally to give him a lift to Washington DC to slop green paint all over the statue of Lincoln. Dick stole Damian's sword. Wally put it on top of Ayer's Rock. Garth admitted that, of all sea creatures, he disliked crabs the most. Donna sent an email to the Daily Planet's comment page criticising the amount of flesh Wonder Woman revealed. Then it was Dick's turn again.

"I'll take another truth, before you have me sabotaging Jay's guns," the acrobat said.

"How'd you guess?" Roy grumbled.

"Speaking of Jason, why did Bruce cover up his death?" Donna asked.

Dick winced. It was hard for any of them to forget returning from Tamaran to several increasingly urgent messages from Bruce, culminating in the notification of Jason's death and the date of the burial – two days before they arrived home.

"I don't know," he said at last. "I assumed Bruce wasn't thinking rationally. It would have been easier to admit Jason died than to cover it up and just say he ran away, but with what happened…after, I'm kinda glad he did."

Donna stared at him. "I propose a new rule. If you don't know the answer to a truth, you have to find out."

"Oh no," Dick protested. "I'm not bringing this up with Bruce."

"Then read his files," Donna suggested, rolling her eyes. "Do some detective work."

"I approve," Garth chipped in.

"Me three," Roy added.

"I'll make it four, then. Out voted, Dick," Wally smirked.

"Fine," Dick capitulated unhappily. "But if I'm pulling skeletons out of the closet, you're all helping me."


	6. In Memoriam

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 6 In Memoriam**

_Saturday, 8_ _th_ _November 2014_

Bruce carefully closed the display cabinet containing his new daughter's first costume. This section of the cave had Dick, Jason and Tim's old Robin suits, Babs, Cass and Steph's old Batgirl suits, Steph's old Spoiler suit and Dick's Batsuit.

"What else do you need to do?" he asked her. "It has been several years since you arrived here. What did you do during that time?"

"I had a go at being Batgirl, during the No Man's Land disaster," she said hesitantly. "I just put one of those bat t-shirts sold to morons over my Robin suit and wore Dad's cape and cowl."

"That was you?" Bruce asked, impressed. Even though there was clear evidence _someone_ was operating in Gotham's ruins, they'd never found more than a rumour of the possible Batgirl. "Do you want to hang those here, as well?" he asked. "I doubt Barbara would mind."

"I still wear Dad's cape," Holly murmured shyly.

"Bad idea; better get your own," Bruce said shortly. He was a good head and a half taller than her; the cape would just be too long.

"You have graves to visit; I don't," Helena replied shortly.

Bruce softened as he realised what she meant. "If you have gear tailored to you, not only will you perform better, but you'll be less likely to damage you father's cape," he said gently.

Helena hesitated. "I don't know," she wavered.

"We can make a memorial to your parents," Bruce suggested. "I – uh – "he swallowed. He was not good at this. "I want you to be happy as well as safe. You're my daughter now, and while I can't replace your father, I can try my best to do right by him."

Helena smiled sadly. "You sound like Dad trying to explain why he was mad at Mom for starting to teach me gymnastics when I was four."

"I can understand why that worried him."

Before Helena could answer, Tim entered the room. "Am I interrupting?" he asked.

Bruce glanced at Helena, who caught his eye and flicked her head in the negative. "What is it?" he asked his third son.

"I've booked a motorbike driving test for five on Monday," Tim reported. "For you, Helena, I mean. You also have an appointment with Dr Leslie Thompkins on Wednesday. Has Bruce told you about her yet? She's been Bruce's doc for years – she knows all about what we do. And I have preliminary designs for specialist and normal use suits I'd like you to look over. Your normal suits should look pretty similar to the one you already have, but with our Kevlar and smart polymer armour, an electrocuting security system, lenses in your mask, our standard grapple, comm, and so on. We can either adapt your current suit or just start again, depending on how much work would need to be done on it."

"We'll be replacing her cape, at least," Bruce stated.

Helena glanced over. "And the mask. I've been wearing Mom's."

Bruce nodded. He'd have to add that to the memorial.

"Your mother wore purple? Interesting," Tim commented. "Our Selina only ever wore gray and black."

Helena shrugged. "It looked good on her, and, well, Batgirl was taken, so…"

Bruce suppressed a wince.

Tim appeared to be staring intently at Helena's face. "Your eyes are a little smaller than Selina's," he commented. "That reminds me. Babs and I figure that it's only a matter of time before someone notices she's got your eyes, Bruce. Or does a genealogy study. We're ready to send everything into the public domain; just give us the go-ahead."

"What do you have planned?" Helena asked.

"Your 'father' was the easy one," Tim started. "Harry Kyle. Younger brother of Selina's father. Your 'mother' is more difficult. Rosa Bellino, daughter of Katarina Bellino. No father on the birth certificate. Katarina worked as a maid for the Wayne family for several years, but was dismissed for inappropriate conduct six months before the child was born."

Bruce thought it through. The implications were fairly obvious. "How old was Rosa compared to Dad?" he asked.

Tim winced. "Fifteen years younger."

"Let me get this straight," Helena said slowly. "You're making it look like Thomas Wayne's father had an affair with his maid and conceived my 'mother'. Aren't you just a bit worried about misrepresenting the Wayne family like that?"

Tim squirmed slightly and looked at his feet. "Roderigo Bellino was stillborn," he muttered. "We intend to replace him."

Bruce sighed. This answered a question he'd long forgotten to ask. "Dad had a rather serious disagreement with his father. He never told me why, but it had something to do with Grandfather's treatment of the staff."

"Do we have your approval?" Tim asked.

"I want to check over everything first," Bruce sighed. "Get those suit designs finalized as soon as possible. Helena, I want to properly introduce you to the Commissioner when you have your new suit."

"Sure," Helena nodded.

"If you want that done tonight, you'll have to pass it on to someone else," Tim interrupted. "Steph's mom is taking me, her, and a bunch of her friends from her old school to Laser Quest for Steph's birthday. We've got a side-bet on how many of the normal kids we can take out before they notice."

"Steph's birthday," Bruce sighed. "Of course. I forgot that was today."

Tim shrugged. "Lives we lead, it's not surprising. I just wish she was legally allowed a bike now."

Helena sighed. "Well, if it's a sort-of date you'll need to be a little more dressed up. Come on." They left.

Bruce grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. He had a memorial to design.


	7. Investigate

* * *

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 7 Investigate**

_Friday, 12_ _th_ _December 2014_

"Why are we all suited 'n' booted?" Arsenal demanded.

"If we're going to investigate, we're going to do it properly," Nightwing said stubbornly. "That means being ready to interrogate suspects at a moment's notice."

"Our only suspect is Batman, and I'm _not_ interrogating _him_ ," Flash protested.

"One day I will teach you the joys of a good investigation," Dick declared. "Sometime when we're _not_ investigating my brother's death."

"Right, fine," Troia interrupted. "Where do we start?"

"Where do _you_ think we should start?"

"B's diary," Arsenal declared.

"He doesn't have one," Nightwing pointed out.

"Somewhere no-one would find it…" Flash mused. "The Sahara Desert!"

Nightwing rolled his eyes – not that they could see it through his mask – as did Troia and Tempest. "The files," Tempest suggested.

"Not bad," Nightwing nodded. "Now, Tim rearranged all the computer files – not sure why, but his system's more efficient – so if the information was there he'd have found it."

"But you have paper files as well, right?" Troia asked. "I think you mentioned that once?"

"We do," Nightwing nodded, leading the way into one of the side caves. "We try to keep them up to date, but we also go through and check every three months. We file everything in quadruplicate at least." He arrived at a cave full of filing cabinets. "Those are chronological, those geographical, those alphabetical by perpetrator, and those alphabetical by crime." He opened a cabinet at random and pulled out a single sheet. "White, Benjamin. August nineteenth, 2001. With Adamson, Robert, and Macmillan, Justin. Trevelyan Avenue. Car-jacking, joy-riding, drunk driving. Additional: due to age, received caution and fifty hours community service." He returned the page to its file. "That's a fairly simple one. The Arkhamites all have much bigger files. Everything's chronological within its subsection."

After a moment, they split up. Nightwing watched his friends winnowing through the files, to no avail.

"Nothing," Arsenal grumbled. "Just theft of drugs and double murder."

"No. If Bruce _did_ file something about it, it would be in one of _these_ cabinets." He patted a much smaller bank of cabinets, then opened the fourth drawer down and pulled out one of the files. He flicked through it. "Doesn't say," he concluded. "Just says he and his birth mother Sheila Haywood were murdered by Joker, gives the cross-references, and notes that he was buried in his mother's grave while Bruce reported him missing. It gives the cover story but not the reason for it." He returned the file to its home.

"Why didn't you show us that first?" Arsenal asked, annoyed.

"You didn't ask," Nightwing shrugged. "Didn't you think we'd have personal files? It's obvious." He led the way back to the main cave. "So, assuming he _did_ write down his reasoning, where would he put it?"

"Oh, anywhere," Flash replied, frustrated.

"Stuck to the ceiling," Arsenal suggested.

"Inside a door knob," Flash offered.

"In a safe behind an out-of-place painting," Tempest supplied.

"Secret side cave?" Troia asked.

Nightwing leant against the wall. "Why don't you go check those out?" he suggested.

Troia shot him a look that clearly said 'I know what you're up to', but started issuing orders anyway. "I'll check the ceilings, Wally can get the door knobs, Garth and Roy look for pictures, and, oh, Wally can check for side caves once he's done with the doors."

Before long, Troia, Arsenal and Tempest returned unsuccessful. The two boys glared at the unconcerned and unhelpful Nightwing. "Found something!" Flash yelled from the depths.

Nightwing quickly worked out where his former teammate was and sprinted towards him, the others hot on his heels. "No, leave that," he told Wally, who was halfway to discovering the hidden door behind a fake cave-in. "That's the way to the Miagani's caves," he explained.

"So, Dick, why don't you share what you've been trying to teach us?" Troia asked as they trooped back to the main cave again.

"I've been hanging around this place for more than a decade. Don't you think I might have just a little local knowledge? You could have asked me for help," Nightwing pointed out.

"Fine," Arsenal grumbled. "Where does Mr Local Knowledge think we should look?"

"Isn't it obvious? Right here." He stalked across the cave and pulled the sheet from over Jason's bloodied Robin costume. The sheet pooled on the floor as Nightwing opened the cabinet door. "If Bruce had a good reason, and thought there might ever be a reason for the rest of us to know, which at that point was me and Babs, then he'd have noted it down and hidden it here somewhere." He carefully removed the suit from its frame and set it aside. He deconstructed the interior, searching each nook and cranny. He finally lifted out a long pole, and found it concealing a small recess. "Bingo," he announced.

There was a thin roll of some papery material and a device about the size of his palm with a large green button. He carefully unrolled the paper. "'Dead and missing are two different mysteries. The wrong mystery may hide the right answer. R'. It's a Robin insignia; look." He showed his friends the page.

"What the _hell_ are you _doing_?!" an angry voice demanded. Nightwing looked up, suddenly nervous. Red Hood had arrived back. The other former Titans moved aside to give the two brothers access to each other. Red Hood pulled a knife from his boot and sent it flying across the cave.

"Jason, wait-" Nightwing yelled, dodging the knife. Almost before he could blink, he could feel hands wrapped firmly around his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his friends come to his aid as he fell down, and felt his shoulder hit something hard, which depressed, and-


	8. Crash and Burn

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 8 Crash and Burn**

_Friday 14_ _th_ _November_

Red Robin dropped into a sitting position on the edge of a convenient worktop and stretched his left leg, massaging the knee.

"You okay?" Spoiler asked, sitting down next to him.

"Just pulled a muscle dodging that bullet," he grunted. It was a mere irritation, but in the absence of an urgent call, he could afford to take a minute.

"Is there nothing we can do to escape Oedipus?" Spoiler asked suddenly.

"There are several options, but they're all worse than actually going ahead with it," Red Robin sighed. "Basically, we need to do it for the sake of our public images." He paused. "It could be worse. We could be doing Lysistrata."

"What's that one?"

"Lysistrata convinces Athens to withdraw from war by leading the women in refusing the men entry to their beds."

Spoiler spluttered. "Yeah, that'd be worse."

"It'll be bad enough. Just imagine how bad the 'fighting' will be in the Seniors' Iliad."

"And I'm guessing B and eff-bee-wuh have to come watch," she groaned.

Red Robin grunted. "Perhaps we can get ourselves assigned to choreograph any and all fight scenes," he mused.

"That would be fun," Spoiler nodded.

Red Robin smiled, thinking of all the fun they could have working out major battle scenes, when a loud screech and a nasty crunching crash sounded. He was on his feet in an instant, turning and sprinting towards the site, Spoiler following.

Two streets over, a car was on its side. The driver's side was in the air and badly crushed. There was a female body lying some feet away in a puddle of windscreen glass.

"B, you still with Gordon?" Red Robin asked, sprinting towards the car. In the corner of his eye, he saw Spoiler heading for the girl. "RTA on Gladstone Drive. Send cops, fire, ambulance."

"One fatality," Spoiler added.

"One KO still in vehicle," Red Robin continued. "Part of the frame's crushing his chest." He grabbed the twisted metal and pushed, trying to relieve the pressure on the driver's ribs. There was no way for him and Spoiler to free him; they didn't have anything that could cut through the metal except explosives, which were far too risky. His nose twitched as he made another observation. "Stinks of booze and weed," he grunted. "Oh, damn…" In the back, a growing puddle of vodka met a still-lit cannabis joint.

With a soft _whump_ , the puddle ignited. The flames reached the alcohol-drenched seats in next to no time, and suddenly Red Robin had to deal with being two feet from an inferno. He couldn't leave the casualty – he'd suffocate. He couldn't put it out – they didn't encounter fires often enough to constantly carry fire extinguishers. At least his suit was fireproof. As long as the gas tank was intact and the fire service weren't too far, he should be fine.

He reached into his belt and pulled out his breath mask. He took a quick pull of clean-ish air before putting it in the other man's mouth.

He narrowed his focus to holding up the metal strut and breathing shallowly. The heat was increasing, the air thick with fumes. Focus. Lock arm muscles. Ribcage up. Ribcage down. Nice and smooth. Ribcage up. Ribcage down.

An indeterminate length of time later, he felt a mask pushed into his mouth from behind as someone tried to pull him away. Blinking, he saw hands taking the strain of the beam, and let himself be removed.

When he was out of the way of the emergency services, he allowed himself to relax. His arms cramped and his lungs spasmed, trying to shift the smoke. He descended into a coughing fit.

Desperately trying to pull in clean air, he felt a strong pair of arms carry him away.

* * *

Huntress waited in the shadows. B was next to her, and they were on the GCPD HQ roof with a lit signal. The door opened, and Commissioner Gordon arrived.

"You calling yourself now?" the cop asked the apparently deserted roof.

"We need to talk," B growled, stepping into the light and deactivated the signal.

"Why does that scare me nearly as much as Arkham trouble?" Gordon sighed. "Go on."

"You are aware of Huntress," B stated.

"New girl, so to speak," Gordon grunted. "You worked with her on the Riddler/Cluemaster case. Bit violent, from what I've heard, but hasn't crossed any lines."

"She's one of us," B said simply.

"Of course she is," Gordon muttered.

Huntress stepped out of the darkness. "Commissioner," she said, extending her hand.

"Huntress," he nodded, shaking her hand. "Don't know how much you've heard of this, but I have three ground rules. First, you respect my boys and girls. No attacking them. If you think they're up to something, bring it to me before you act. Second, no crime you can't back up. And if you're going to start breaking and entering after evidence, don't get caught. Finally, no killing unless it's absolutely unavoidable, and keep injuries down. Got all that?"

"Respect your people, no unjustifiable crime, as little killing and maiming as possible," she rattled off. The last one might cause a few problems. Sometimes it just wasn't safe to leave live enemies behind.

"Good," Gordon smiled. Now-"

Red Robin's voice crackled through the comm, and Huntress raised a hand to quiet Gordon. "RTA, Gladstone Drive," B relayed.

"I'll tell the boys on the front desk and call the other services," Huntress offered. Getting a slight nod from B, she backflipped off the roof. She flared her cape to slow her descent, a remodelled spare of Black Bat's. It had been trimmed to make it squarer, edgier than the original flowing cut, with an apparently decorative purple trim. It was actually a B Inc innovation that snapped out at the press of a button, similar to Red Robin's wings and increasing the surface area dramatically for gliding. Landing, she rolled to her feet and ran off to complete her mission.

* * *

Spoiler watched anxiously as her boyfriend sat on the Batmobile hood and attempted to cough his lungs out. She and Huntress stood to one side as Batman gently examined the red patch on Red Robin's face. Car crashes just weren't part of their repertoire, although of course they'd do anything they could to minimize casualties. The girl had died on impact. Nothing could be done for that much head trauma. She must have forgone her seatbelt.

"Alright, I need some statements," the inspecting officer said, coming over.

Batman stood. "Wrap up here," he ordered. "Huntress, take him back when you're done. Oxygen and burn cream." And so he departed.

Spoiler sighed, and turned to the cop. "Red Robin and I were two blocks away when we heard the crash…"


	9. Landfall

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 9 Landfall**

_Elsewhen_

Nightwing felt the air get squished out of him as he landed hard after a brief tumble through a whirling kaleidoscope. He'd somehow wound up at the bottom of the pile-up, although at least Red Hood had at least stopped strangling him. The weight lessened as everyone scrambled to their feet, until he could flip upright himself, glancing around and automatically drew his escrima sticks. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an assortment of lassoes, bows and arrows and handguns also coming free.

"Oh wow, this is so awesome!" a female voice squealed. "You're Nightwing, _the_ Nightwing! I thought the Bat would come, but I always heard he was _soo_ scary, but you're totally wonderful!" There was a brief pause punctuated by a massive intake of breath. "Sorry, sorry; I promised myself I wouldn't go all fangirl, but I mean, really, _it's you_ and – is that Red Hood? It's really you? How long did the Bat wait?"

Nightwing blinked in shock and confusion. The speaker was female, about his age, and was dressed in black. Black body suit. Black gloves. Black cape, with a sort of feathery look about it, and dark purple highlights. Her hair was black, her skin slightly dusky, and her eyes a pretty blue-green. She seemed to be extremely excited, and was talking almost as fast as a speedster.

"You're a _Bat_ fangirl?" Flash asked, mouth running at speed. "Fangirling over these two? Mr 'keeping-my-feet-on-the-ground-is-for-boring-people' and Mr 'you-don't-mind-if-I-punch-you-do-you?-well-tough'? Talk about questionable taste. Oh, and why were you talking about Bats in the past tense?"

"Quiet," Nightwing called across them. "Who are you? Where are we? What happened?" He paused and thought. "And why _are_ you talking about B in the past tense?"

"Okay," the girl said. "In reverse order, because he's been dead for centuries, you time travelled, the Clubhouse, and I'm Huntress."

"No you're not," Nightwing answered automatically, before the rest of the answers sunk in. "Wait, centuries? How far have we travelled?"

"About a millennium, give or take a few decades," Not-Huntress shrugged. "From Red Hood there, I'm guessing you're acquainted with the first Huntress? I'm her successor. Or to be more exact, her successor's successor's successor's successor's successor's, add a few more, successor's successor."

"What the hell do you mean we time travelled?" Red Hood interrupted.

"You pressed the signal button, right?" Not-Huntress asked, starting to sound unsure.

"Thingy 'bout yea big, green button?" Nightwing asked, gesturing to show the size. "We didn't press it so much as I landed on it when someone knocked me over." He glared at Red Hood.

"What the fuck is going on?" Red Hood demanded.

Nightwing sighed. "You know the story B came up with after…Kenya?" he asked.

Red Hood nodded. Not-Huntress frowned. "I know there was a story, but I never actually found out what it was," she mused.

Jason made a noise similar to Damian's 'tt'. "B and I had a falling out. I found my birth certificate, learned who my birth mother was, and ran off to find her. B followed, and arrived to find her dead and no trace of me."

"Because it was an open secret he wasn't fitting in to his new life, it seemed reasonably plausible that he'd run off," Nightwing shrugged. "But, why did B hide your death? It would have been simpler to admit you died with your mother."

"'The reason for this was later revealed to be due to a cryptic message signed with the Robin insignia. It transpired this message had been left by a future version of Huntress'," Not-Huntress quoted. Nightwing turned to look at her. "It's in the book," she supplied helpfully, holding up what looked like a hand bound sheaf of the same papery stuff the note had been written on.

"May I?" Nightwing asked, holding out his hand for the book.

"What was the date when you left?" Not-Huntress asked cagily.

"December twelfth, 2014," Troia answered. "Why?"

"Well, do you really want to know what your immediate future holds?" Not-Huntress asked rhetorically. "That passage references October 2014, when you first started working with your Huntress." She handed over the book.

Nightwing flipped it open at a bookmark near the front. It looked like an extremely high quality photocopy of a familiar script. "This is Red Robin's handwriting," he noted.

"We'd wondered who wrote this first section," Not-Huntress commented. "He's got a good style."

Nightwing found himself agreeing as he flicked through the book. It outlined the broad strokes of their lives, dealing with the major events in a detached, clinical manner while still explaining the emotional impact. Skimming past the passage dealing with the aftermath of Bruce's 'death', he turned over a page, and stopped. The back of the previous page covered Barbara's spinal reconstruction surgery and return to the streets, and Helena's adoption, but the new page was a much poorer copy, of a badly damaged original. "What happened here?"

"Not sure," Not-Huntress shrugged. "Family tradition says the book was damaged, and only after that were copies made."

"Before you get too carried away, you didn't really answer all the questions," Troia interrupted. "What's your other name, and what did you mean by 'the Clubhouse'?"

Not-Huntress seemed to space out a little, staring into the distance unseeingly. "I'm Rose Cain-Todd-Wayne," she murmured. "This is the headquarters of the Legion of Superheroes. A lot's changed since your time."


	10. Learning To Be Family

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 10 Learning To Be Family**

_Friday, 18_ _th_ _November 2014_

Tim made a short notation, then looked over at one of his books. He had two translations of the Iliad, the narration for their performance, and a copy of the original ancient Greek text. His task, to create a dance version that could be performed by complete amateurs.

"How come you can understand ancient Greek so well?" Helena asked curiously. She, along with Cass, Steph, Jason and Damian, had occupied a corner of the assembly hall and were getting a head start on their homework.

" _I'm good friends with an Amazon,_ " Tim reminded her in Romani.

Helena frowned. " _But…not right…class?_ " she asked falteringly in the same language.

Tim blinked in confusion, then remembered she'd only been learning the language for a few weeks. " _Form, not class,_ " he corrected. " _You're right, Amazonian is a more ancient form than Homeric, but I've had a passing familiarity with it since I was about seven._ "

He returned to his work while his new sister puzzled out his answer. Bruce believed in total immersion learning, which meant they'd be speaking little else amongst themselves until she could hold her own. Even with the advantage that came from being multilingual to start with, she was going to have it rough for a bit.

" _Why very young_?" she asked. Steph whispered in her ear, and she corrected herself. " _Why so young?_ "

Tim put down his pen and considered his answer. " _My parents were not fond of me,_ " he said. " _No matter what I did, I was a disappointment. I used to try to win their approval. As they were archaeologists – more like tomb raiders, actually – I studied history and ancient languages._ " He blinked and looked away. " _While they were absent on one of their trips, I taught myself enough to translate a scroll they'd brought home. Mom threw me across the room and broke my arm for 'daring to think I could learn something'. After that, I accepted I would never be good enough for her._ "

Fighting the bitter tears that threatened to resurface, Tim returned to the passage on the single combat between Paris and Menelaus, ignoring the whispers as Steph and Cass made sure Helena had understood. He was just trying to work out how to safely show Menelaus swinging Paris around by the helmet when he felt Helena hug him.

" _I'm very sorry,_ " she whispered. " _That's horrible._ "

" _We've all had it bad,_ " he said, trying to shrug it off. " _It's over now. They were wrong, and I've moved on from it now._ "

" _At least your father didn't leave you the moment your mother got addicted to heroin,_ " Jason commented.

Tim looked up, a sad smile gracing his lips. It was a normal way to deal with the bitterness of the years, laughing it off and joking over who had it worse. Of course, they all knew and accepted Jason had the trump card, but that wasn't the point.

" _My father cares for Mom and I so little he keeps getting himself sent to Arkham,_ " Steph countered.

" _My mother…died…with a…erm…bad person,_ " Helena offered, getting into the swing of it.

" _Was killed_ _ **by**_ _a bad person?"_ Tim suggested.

" _Yes, true,_ " she agreed.

" _My father kidnapped my brother and broke his fingers in an attempt to compel me to return to him,_ " Cass stated.

" _That was not your fault,_ " Tim reminded her, knowing she still felt lingering twinges of guilt over the incident.

" _He gave me my first hit when I was five,_ " Cass retorted.

" _Point._ " He pushed his draft choreography over to the others. " _What do you think?_ "

" _Looks straightforward enough,_ " Jason mused.

" _Agreed. My mother challenged me to single combat to the death,_ " Cass continued.

"What _are_ you lot talking about?" a newcomer demanded.

Tim looked up to see the Senior dancing Agamemnon standing over them.

"We're having a 'who's got the shittiest parents?' competition," Jason snarked. "Wanna join in?"

"Uh, my dad will only let me get a PS4 or and X-box One for Christmas, not both?" the boy offered hesitantly.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt. _My mother put a remote control in my spinal column and tried to use me to decapitate my brother._ "

Helena winced as she worked it out. " _Which brother?_ "

"Grayson."

"Right…" the Senior said blankly. "Ms Hopkins wants to see you. She said something about crossdressing."

Six voices, six languages, six muttered curses.


	11. Endless Years

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 11 Endless Years**

_Elsewhen_

Huntress Rose led the way to a sitting area and took a seat, hugging her knee to her chest. Nightwing, recognising the defensive posture, waited for her to start.

"Two things you'll have to remember," she started. "First, what you've seen in your lifetime changed things massively. Second, it's been long enough that certain trends have emerged. Over the generations, the community intermarried fairly heavily. I estimate that, by the fifth generation, 90% of the community was related, if distantly. This was never much of a problem; the gene pool was sufficiently diverse and there was never much marrying of close blood relatives. This was magnified within the Wayne family. There has been a fairly large incidence of cousin marriage, but not cousins by blood. Oh, and triple-barrelling surnames only started about six hundred years ago. Dunno why.

"In the family, almost everyone hit the streets. We call it 'going nightside', not sure if you'd be using that terminology yet." Nightwing inclined his head; they hadn't phrased anything like that, but it fitted with the name they'd given the active vigilante branch of Batman Inc. Huntress Rose continued. "About six-fifty, seven hundred years ago three, three and a half centuries after your time, we first started to make a distinction between the Wayne Family, and the Bat Clan."

"There's a difference?" Troia asked curiously. The entire family was notoriously single-minded in their mission. "Those who don't 'go nightside' aren't Bats?"

Huntress Rose took a sip of her drink. Nightwing had already tried it. It was a fruity concoction with fizz but no bubbles and none of the sweetness from conventional soda. Hopefully something they wouldn't have to wait a millennium for.

"What do you think the two main requirements for a really good vigilante?" Huntress Rose asked speculatively.

Nightwing furrowed his brow. "Skill and drive," he answered. They'd seen people try out the hero gig due to gimmicky powers – Luthor's Infinity Inc for starters – but hadn't had the drive necessary for sticking to the job.

Huntress Rose nodded. "Skill wasn't really a problem. Everyone had more than a little self-defence training, and there was never any noticeable lack of ability among nightside. But drive did cause problems. Most of the time the family managed to protect itself from personally suffering what we protected others from. This meant that only about thirty percent of the family became Bats. From that we noticed a few things.

"We have files with long term speculations that were made over centuries; that's how I know all this. It was found that it takes some years to identify when someone's become a Bat, but it's not hard when you know what you're looking for. Bats can and will go all night, every night, for weeks, even months at a time, bounce back from extreme injury and even then refuse injury time. They get hit worse, but try harder and get better results. Most Bats are quoted as saying that it's because putting everything into the Mission is the only way to make sense of what happens in the darker parts of life."

"That sounds a lot like the Waynes we know," Flash commented slowly.

"They're what we aspired to be," Huntress Rose explained. She rose, and stalked over to the entrance to the balcony. She stared into the sky cluttered with aircars. "Seventy percent of the family never became Bats," she reiterated. "Five present of Waynes managed to make the transition by sheer force of will. Twenty-two percent broke from all that happened, and remade themselves. Three percent just…broke. Those figures were more or less accurate five years ago. I'm not sure what the percentages are now. I would point out that when one of a generation broke, so would most of that generation."

She took a deep breath and sighed, sending her cape fluttering behind her like a mass of feathers. It was mesmerizing, partly because it was hard to tell what gave it that effect.

"Names have passed down the years," she continued. "There has always been at least one Batman. Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl, Flamebird, Huntress – these have all been popular. Red Hood and Spoiler, not really."

Nightwing frowned. Flamebird was his namesake's partner in Kryptonian folklore, but no Bat had gone by that. Maybe next generation.

Huntress Rose was still talking. "Nearly four hundred years ago, my predecessor, the Huntress of that time, was pushed too hard. Her fiancé was killed. She went too far, and ended up killing three people live on air. There was a massive backlash, and Batman Inc was forced to either disband or go underground. You can guess what they chose.

"I am the first nightsider to be seen in action since."

Silence fell. Red Hood rose from his seat and padded over to her. She might be descended from both of them, but it was his name she bore. Nightwing watched, knowing his brother found the prospect of having children heartening, and that Rose would appreciate her grand-sire's concern.

"What happened to you?" Red Hood asked gently.

Rose turned around, and her face bore traces of tears threatening to fall. "When the Legion formed, and allied with the Science Police, we knew we'd have to take steps to ensure our integrity. We developed a backup plan in case one of us was captured, while trying to devise another strategy. But I was found. The protocol I had agreed to follow demanded that I surrender myself to them and us my access to their systems to safeguard our operations. The cost is that I can never be part of the family again."

Red Hood led her back to the couch and settled her next to her as her breathing became ragged. "I knew it might be me when I agreed to keep going, but I underestimated just how hard it would be," she hiccupped. She showed all the signs of someone letting herself break down for the first time in too long. "I've done my bit. I even filled in some mysteries in the book. But I just can't rebuild here."

Nightwing leant forward. "Why not?" he murmured. "Tell us, let us help you."

She smiled sadly. "I'm not powered. It's too dangerous to let me do anything," she explained. "I've been benched for four and a half years. It's killing me."


	12. Tech Time

* * *

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 12 Tech Time**

_Saturday, 22 November 2014_

"Do we have an hour or two to talk about things?"

Helena looked up from the orange that was the last fragment of her brunch to see Tim holding a box file. Cass and Dick looked away from the furious staring match Jason and Damian were holding for the last sausage roll, and Bruce set aside the weekly gossip circular that obsessed about the Waynes. "What is it, Tim?" he asked.

"First, the new security system," Tim started. "It functions by reading the heart signature using this chip. The chip is programmed to recognise conscious and unconscious rhythms, and I hope to set it so lockdown is initiated if it is scanned while recognising unconscious rhythms or no rhythm at all."

"That seems unnecessarily complicated," Dick observed. "And shouldn't we be speaking Romani?"

Helena flushed, knowing that changing languages would, theoretically, be to her benefit, but worrying she wouldn't be able to keep track.

Tim shook his head. "Too much to discuss, too wide a vocabulary," he said, to Helena's relief. "Anyway, I'm going on the principle that someone, at some time, is going to want to break into the Annexe. This lock system will stop them, but we might as well make it a little trickier. And try to catch them at it. The chip is worn on a wristband. I figured that anyone with half a brain-"

"-which rules out most of Blackgate and half of Arkham-" Dick muttered.

"-would get suspicious if it was as simple as nicking our accessories, considering we have the option of fingerprint scanners," Tim continued. "So I came up with this design." He opened up the box file and handed out a few diagrams.

Helena took one and slid it between her and Cass. It showed a chip built into an alarm unit, which was linked to a few wires, which were going to be sewn into a leather wristband along with a diamond nanotube, also sealed at the alarm chip.

"How do you take it off?" Dick asked dubiously.

"Uh…you don't", Tim answered sheepishly.

"You don't," Bruce repeated stonily.

Tim shrugged. "I couldn't think of a way to install a clasp without it either being something ridiculous like a fingerprint reader or completely negating the point of making it hard to steal. If you want it off, you'll have to either cut it off, which will trigger a distress signal, or dismantle the alarm chip. Which, obviously, is pretty hair trigger. It'll have to be assembled around the wrist, and stay there until we upgrade them. For this reason, they come in one design, black leather, and no customisation." He paused. "Of course this is just Mark 1. I don't think Mark 2 would be ready until after the Annexe is done. This will do for now."

"What is Mark 2?" Damian asked suspiciously.

Wordlessly, Tim passed over another sheet.

Dick leant across the table to read it upside down. "The entire bracelet is a cover for an implant?" he asked. "Ambitious."

"Tim, cybernetics may be a little extreme," Bruce said gently.

"Depends on how far you take it," Tim shrugged. "Just this, and maybe comms. Problem is, if one of us gets nabbed, has the bracelet removed, and then busts out, we can't get into the Annexe. The implant would allow it. I was thinking of including a tracker that sends off a distress signal if it registers a certain heart pattern with the lock chip. We can all alter out heart rate, yes?" he glanced around.

Helena frowned. "I've tried that, but…"

"There's a trick to it," Bruce told her. "I'll teach you later. What else, Tim?"

"That's all for the security system," Tim said. "I wanted to check off the final plans for the layout of the Annexe." More paper flew around the table.

Helena perused the plans. The underground floor was split into parking berths and workshops. Floor one, the ground floor, was full of things like HPLC and PCR machines. Biochemical stuff. Floor two, physical sciences, incorporating slightly wilder research projects. Three and four, hard- and software. "What exactly is going on with the top floor?" she asked.

"Originally, it was a med bay and training area," Tim explained. "Then Dick had an idea."

"Tim keeps falling asleep while waiting for his tests to be done, then waking up with cramp," Dick grinned. "Plus we'd been hoping to use it as a less intimidating Gotham base. So we need a more casual zone."

"So smaller business areas, and sofas and a massive TV-slash-computer screen," Tim finished. "Then I just added a kitchenette and shower room. We'll probably use them often enough."

"Ramps around the edge of the room, and a large central hole in most of the floors with a ladder?" Helena asked sceptically.

"Yup," Tim nodded. "Any objections?"

Bruce shrugged. "As I said before, I'll stick to the Cave. It's your playground."

"Good," Tim answered. "One other idea I had. Batman Inc 'casual' uniforms." He pulled his microcomputer from his pocket.

"Your fingers are fine," Bruce said sharply. "You don't need to keep using that."

"But it's brilliant," Tim complained.

"The deal with the school was that you use it while your fingers were in splints. You're becoming dependent on it. Hand it over." Bruce held his hand out.

Helena watched an intense argument between them held purely through their stubborn stares. Eventually, Tim capitulated, slamming the gizmo onto the table and storming off.

Helena frowned, before slinking off after him. Those uniforms sounded interesting, and something more in line with her talents than cardiac wristbands.


	13. Tactics

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 13 Tactics**

_Elsewhen_

Wally watched anxiously as the long-lost relatives reunited, so to speak. This was difficult, and always would have been. He wouldn't have wanted an impromptu conference with his _own_ thousand-year descendant. Of course, there was a chance Rose _was_ descended from him in some way, but if so, it was clear that aspect of her heritage had lost out to the Bat.

Donna suddenly sat bolt upright, staring out the window. "Look," she said, pointing and hurrying over to the balcony. Wally joined the rush to see what was up.

Several sky-cars were careening around the place, one crashed and on fire, slight distortions in the air leading back to two men waving their hands around. "Braalian terrorists," Rose muttered. "The Legion aren't around."

"Right," Nightwing said, taking charge. "Everyone, suit up. Flash, get up to speed. You'll keep everyone unharmed; evacuate the cars and divert debris. Troia, stop the out of control ones. Tempest, see what you can do about that fire. Arsenal, Hood, covering fire. Distract 'em; Flash, you'll want to keep an eye on the bullets and arrows. Huntress, sneak behind 'em and drop 'em. You take right, I'll go left."

Wally pulled his hood over his face and started to run. It didn't take him long to break the light barrier, leaving the world to seem frozen around him. The sky-cars were out of reach, but Troia's slow progress across the sky gave an indication of how long he had to wait. In the meantime, he could note all the pieces of flying metal and divert them.

If something was moving at a certain speed, he could move it, but it would be at the same speed as before once he released it. So he couldn't pluck, say, a bullet out of the air without bleeding off the speed. It was a bit of a headache, so preferred to let non-fragile objects smack into the road or some such, merely changing their course.

Troia had a sky-car near the ground. Wally's speed made it easier to wrench the doors open and ease the passengers out, and this time he did bleed off their speed.

Turning, he saw a cluster of Hood's bullets heading for the crowd.

* * *

Nightwing kept an eye on Huntress as he used his grapple to swing around the incident zone. Using a stream of sky-cars as stepping stones, he approached his target.

Huntress was using her feathery cape to glide, taking a more circuitous route. Her suit had morphed slightly to give a complete covering over her head, sweeping back to slight points at her crown and covering her hair.

Nightwing dropped down, rolled forward and whipped out his escrima sticks. He'd instantly drawn the targets' attention and felt the sticks wrenched in two different directions. Luckily, Huntress arrived, giving one a sharp crack with her nun-chuk. As the other tried to react, he dropped, one of Hood's tranq bullets in his neck.

Nightwing rolled his shoulders to relieve the pain from his sticks being pulled away, then started pulling the Braalians into position for cuffing. "Let me," Huntress murmured, pulling out some thick braces she snapped onto their arms. "It's what the Science Police use," she explained.

"Your beat," Nightwing shrugged. He glanced around. Tempest had a pair of dolphins spitting water on the flaming sky-car. Troia was lowering the last of the out-of-control vehicles, the muscles in her arms standing out. Flash reappeared, carrying a shell-shocked woman e gently set down. Arsenal and Red Hood were grappling down to join them. "Do we need to call the Science Police?" he asked Huntress.

"No; that's them now," she said, pointing into the sky. "Oh, no."

Nightwing followed her finger to a small group of free-flying figures. As they got closer, he could identify certain members of the Legion of Super-Heroes.

Cosmic Boy made a beeline for Huntress as he landed. "Rose, what in the galaxy do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

Nightwing heard Red Hood reload.

' _This is going to get messy…'_


	14. Contingencies

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 14 Contingencies**

_Sunday, 23_ _rd_ _November 2014_

Damian dropped the jar of polish on the bench and sat down. He and Cassandra had a little habit of a multi-weapon duel every Sunday afternoon, just to keep in practise. Of course, after they'd blunted everything sharp, and sharpened everything blunt, they needed to polish and service them. It was a rather pleasant way to pass an hour or two.

"Perhaps we should consider adding more weaponry to our regular arsenal," Cassandra commented. "Tim and Step have their staffs, Helena has one to back up her crossbow, and Dick and Babs have escrima sticks. And of course Jason's guns."

"Helena probably has the right idea," Damian agreed. "She has a range weapon and a close weapon. I have my sword, and a longbow I am fond of, but Father does not like them."

"I like my bola, but this does need more thought," Cassandra nodded, "We should ask Tim. He knows most about the layers of plans and contingencies."

Damian hmmed, buffing his sword. "Speaking of contingencies, we do not seem to have one for if our parents try to reclaim us."

Cassandra carefully sanded down a splinter in a wooden kendo sword. "If I had surrendered to my father two months ago, I would have publically demonstrated my change of loyalties first. That would have been a sign of good faith. It would have been something seemingly irreversible."

"You were going to publically file for emancipation," Damian nodded. "But even if you were granted it, you would not have been forced to quit Father's household. I doubt I would succeed in such a motion, but filing for emancipation would help any appeal for custody Mother may make."

"If our parents successfully took either of us, the two biggest hurdles to defecting back would be the close surveillance we would no doubt be under, and being alone in enemy territory," Cassandra mused. "But I think we can solve both problems at once."

"Whichever is captured betrays the other," Damian guessed. "The betrayer would gain our parents' trust, and the betrayed would be able to aid in the escape." He set down his sword and picked up a butterfly knife. "There is a slight problem. Submission oaths."

"I'm sorry?" Cassandra frowned.

"Did your father ever explain the nuances of the League of Shadows culture?" Damian asked, then continued regardless. "There is a high emphasis on understanding submission. There are many customs regarding giving, accepting and winning submission. Most relevantly, we, personally, have given clear indications of a willingness to submit to Father."

"Can you clarify?" Cassandra asked.

"Batgirl and Robin are clearly subordinate to Batman," Damian explained. "By my actions, I have shown myself prepared to submit to Father, Grayson, and arguably Barbara Gordon. That is part of the reason I tussle with Drake, Todd and Brown; I will accept their higher place in the hierarchy, but I do not wish to submit to them."

"And you like the tussling," Cassandra smirked. "Does Bruce know all this?"

Damian paused, and frowned. "I am not sure. There are also myriad customs regarding a failed marriage union we should discuss, to be certain."

"Perhaps once the weapons are done," Cassandra demurred. "If I was to adopt a short-range weapon, what do you recommend?"

"You have a neat flick of the wrist," Damian pondered. "Something with a bit of a swing. Nun-chuks?"

"Too hefty for my tastes," Cassandra declined.

"How about fans? The edges can be weighted, and Drake could probably line the edge with cutting wire." Damian tilted his head as he considered the possibilities. "Could go well with the bat theme."

"Not a bad idea," Cassandra agreed. "I'll have to try them; I don't think we have any in the vaults."

Damian finished with the small knives, and picked up a rapier. "Should we plan that little betrayal we discussed earlier?"

"Can't hurt," Cassandra shrugged.


	15. Locals and Visitors

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 15 Locals and Visitors**

_Elsewhen_

Nightwing took charge instantly. "Flash, round up Arsenal's arrows. Troia, see if Tempest needs help. Arsenal, Hood, guard duty. Huntress, check the relevant authorities are on their way."

His brother and former teammates, recognising the steel tone to his voice, got on with tasks that were verging on make-work, just to emphasise to the Legion that this was an incident scene, and the Legion were late. Huntress looked at him, slightly confused, flicking her gaze to Cosmic Boy. Nightwing glanced to the skies as though waiting for a new arrival, and gave a little smile. Huntress inclined her head, got out some sort of device, and stepped away.

"What are you doing?" Cosmic Boy demanded.

"Securing the incident scene," Nightwing answered curtly. Then, ignoring the irate Legionnaire, he turned to the woman Flash had rescued. "Ma'am?" he said. "Can you hear me?"

"Ye-yes," she stuttered.

"How are you feeling?" Nightwing asked. "Are you hurt?"

"Not hurt, but…but…" the woman started to shake. "They trashed my aircar, and we'd only just paid it off, and- oh, my husband's going to kill me!"

"I'm sure he'll be too relieved you're okay to mind," Nightwing said gently. "An aircar can be replaced. You can't, and you're safe."

Huntress approached. "Meds will be here directly," she said formally. "Any heads-up for them?"

"I think just shock," Nightwing said, carefully watching the woman having a (perfectly understandable) minor breakdown. "Check if Tempest has any casualties."

"Two fatalities, I'm afraid," Troia said, coming over with Tempest. "Guessing they died on impact, but I'm no expert."

"There's fatalities?" Cosmic Boy interrupted weakly. "This is terrible."

"Bad stuff happens," Nightwing murmured. "At least this lovely lady's still with us."

The woman gave a weak smile, and burst into tears.

An aircar marked with a red cross landed, followed by two marked 'SP'. Nightwing rose and went over. "Two Braalians caused an air car crash," he announced. "We have both men contained. One casualty, shock but no other apparent injuries, plus two fatalities."

The meds hurried over to the poor woman, and the SP split; some to the prisoners, some to the burnt out aircar. A few stayed back.

"You new Legionnaires, young man?" the SP guy who seemed to be in charged asked, slightly confused and just a little hopeful.

Cosmic Boy made a choking sound.

"There was a multi-temporal incident," Nightwing said smoothly, doing his best to give the impression it was just a little hiccup not worth worrying about. "We were active in the early 21st century."

"We need to talk about this," Cosmic Boy said through gritted teeth.

"Perhaps, in the interests of discretion, we should adjourn to your clubhouse?" Nightwing suggested. Without waiting for an answer, he raised his voice. "Titans, to me."

The former Titans, Red Hood and Huntress all came over. "You know we're not the Titans anymore," Troia corrected.

"Saves calling out six names," Nightwing shrugged. "We're having a conference with the Legion."

Saturn Girl came over and rested a hand on Cosmic Boy's shoulder. "Let's take it inside." She turned to the 'Titans'. "This way, please."

As they fell in behind the telepath, Nightwing got a warm feeling as he realised Huntress was snuggly in the middle.

* * *

"It is not my fault you chose to ignore one of your assets," Nightwing protested coldly.

"She can't defend herself. She doesn't have special abilities like us!" Cosmic Boy yelled.

"Like _you_ ," Nightwing corrected.

' _If the girl wants to get herself killed, that's her lookout,'_ Red Hood's vicious Arabian voice muttered.

' _He's worried about his teammate; that's fair enough,'_ the Dick/Tim Robin voice replied dubiously.

"Maybe, if you'd let me join in the training occasionally, you'd have noticed that I have more than a few talents of my own," Huntress said through gritted teeth.

"You may have a few neat tricks, but you just don't have the abilities to back them up," Cosmic Boy said sadly. "You're going to get yourself hurt if you carry on like this."

"Well forgive me for being able to do my job," Huntress retorted.

' _If she accepts the risk, and had the training, it's her call,'_ the Bruce-voice ruled.

"You know, there's a reason the non-powered Gothamites keep ending up in charge," Troia remarked. "They compensate for their weakness until they're the best they can be."

"If you're not the best, you're in the grave," Nightwing said flatly. "And then you need a whole barrel of luck, too. She's got luck, but how much have you dampened her potential?"

' _Now, please let her pull off something neat,'_ muttered Red Hood's mischievous voice. The vigilante smirked beneath his helmet.

"How about this?" Huntress snarled. "Me versus Ultra Boy. Then you admit I know what I'm doing."

"No way is that safe," Cosmic Boy scoffed.

"It is if I referee," Troia said firmly.

Saturn Girl and Lightening Lad overruled Cosmic Boy. "We'll see if he's up for it."


	16. Night Out

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 16 Night Out**

_Monday 24_ _th_ _November 2014_

Spoiler slithered down the side of a building and landed softly next to the garage. She unlocked it and raised the door just enough to slip inside. The dim light hooked up to a motion sense snapped into life. She moved toward her bike, then started.

"You're patrolling with me tonight," Batman told her.

"Would you please stop creeping up on people and giving them heart attacks?" Spoiler griped. It was a common complaint from anyone working with B.

"You shouldn't have let yourself be taken by surprise," Batman reprimanded.

Spoiler knew him well enough to ignore the barb. When Batman dropped in out of the blue to tell you that you were patrolling with him, it normally meant you were doing something wrong, and he would tell you every little thing you did wrong. "What do we have planned?" she asked instead.

"One of the Columbian drug cartels is bringing in a large shipment tonight. They're meant to trade it for a supply of guns. We're going to interrupt it."

"Gotcha," Spoiler nodded. "What kind of numbers are we expecting?"

"The gunrunners are expected to send five. The cartel, somewhere between six and twenty, depending on how many of the ship's crew are theirs. There's a local gang arranging it, they'll have about ten," Batman told her.

"Do we have any backup?" Spoiler frowned.

"We need some?"

"For thirty-five, potentially heavily armed, no doubt in multiple locations?" Spoiler shrugged. "I'd prefer it."

Batman nodded. "Nightwing, Robin and Huntress will meet us there."

Spoiler mounted her bike. "Lead the way."

* * *

"What did you do wrong?" Batman asked.

Spoiler frowned. "I jumped in too quickly?"

"No. Your timing was perfect. But, you did go in before the signal. You saw someone coming I didn't, so you were right to move. But when you realised you'd gone too soon, you hesitated. You'd already committed to the action, so you should have followed through."

Spoiler nodded slowly. "Anything else?"

"Robin and Black Bat have proposed that we all have both a close and a ranged weapon in our permanent arsenals in addition to the batarangs," Batman informed her. "You have your staff; I'd like you to consider a new ranged weapon."

"I'll have a think," Spoiler agreed. "What now?"

"We patrol," Batman said simply.

* * *

"Spoiler, deal with that," Batman ordered.

He watched the girl plunge down. Two street gangs were scuffling, and one boy drew a gun. Red Robin had reported a modest amount of success persuading gangs to utilize non-fatal combat matches to settle matters when he'd found himself in a different Gotham over the summer. It was worth seeing if a similar trend could be established here.

Spoiler landed on top of the gunman, knocking him down and flipping off before she could fall. Her staff was out, and she carefully separated each pair of opponents, smacking away switchblades, baseball bats, and a few more guns and other weapons. She kicked away the guns.

"Listen up," she snarled. "A good fight's fun; I can hardly deny it. No killing, no guns, and it stays between gang members, 'kay? When the big guns get out of Arkham everyone loses, so let us focus on them and not have to worry about you lot killing each other."

"You gone soft or something?" someone asked.

Spoiler shrugged. "We're sick of you guys throwing your lives away before they've started. It's not like we can't have you locked away, and you know it, so try playing nice."

She stepped back, and the fight restarted – just with no weapons. Spoiler gathered up the guns and grappled back to Batman.

"That do?" she asked.

* * *

"Red Robin had an idea for us – that is, B Inc – to host intergang martial arts contests," Spoiler said. "But if we try to regulate it too much, the gangs will just go underground."

Batman didn't say anything. They'd finished up on top of Gotham Cathedral. There were three different gangs in the area, and they often fought each other. There was a relatively peaceful scuffle going on, and the pair were watching to ensure the rules were kept.

"The idea has potential," Batman said at last. "We need to know more about the social structure of each gang before we can do much, though."

"Another long-term project," Spoiler sighed.

"You did well tonight," Batman said abruptly.

"Really? What have I been doing wrong?" she asked, startled.

"Wrong? Nothing really; I just wanted to see for myself how you're doing." He dropped down, sitting next to her on the apex of the roof. "There is one thing. What is happening at school?"

"Excuse me?" Spoiler spluttered.

"I know something's happening at school that you're not comfortable with," Batman elaborated.

"It's the Christmas show," she muttered. "We're being told to perform, and it's…embarrassing."

"Ah." Batman nodded slowly. "Well, I'm sure you'll make me proud."


	17. Point Proven

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 17 Point Proven**

_Elsewhen_

"It's only fair if either both of us get one, or neither of us."

"You're not really part of the Legion, so you're not allowed one. He is a Legionnaire, so he does have one."

"Enough." Troia flew between Huntress and Cosmic Boy, stopping the argument. "What's this about?"

"Legion flight rings," Huntress said shortly. "He's refusing to play fair."

Troia sighed, and took Huntress aside. "Will this affect your take-down plan?" she said bluntly.

"Excuse me?" Huntress said innocently.

"You're a Bat; you've got a take-down protocol," Troia affirmed. "Will the flight rings affect it?"

"It will be much easier if he doesn't have one, but if he does, it doesn't really matter if I do or not," Huntress shrugged. "I have my own means of propulsion, you see."

"I'll try to get Ultra-Boy to give up his ring, but I'm not confident, and it will be a more convincing win if he's got that advantage," Troia decide.

"Sounds like you're pretty firmly in my corner," Huntress observed.

"There's times when I curse the day Batman let the whole urban legend business slide and started playing with the rest of us, but I'll never bet against a Bat," Troia grumbled. "Did your family history lessons include the way you lot run roughshod over us?"

Huntress smirked. "It was more about why you let us."

"Your damn perfectionism."

"A long career requires luck and skill; the more skill you have, the less luck you need. Too little of either, you're in the ground," Huntress shrugged.

Troia grimaced. "I remember when the philosophy was simply 'you're good or you're dead'."

"I don't believe we've ever had any fatalities purely due to incompetence," Huntress noted. "But then, there have been lots of cases of us being benched because we weren't good enough. All on-street deaths have been largely due to bad luck."

"Just don't mess this up," Troia warned.

* * *

"I'm not really comfortable with this," Ultra-Boy said awkwardly. "I'm worried I might hurt her."

"Why?" Troia asked, mystified.

"Well, I can boost my strength, and she can't really do anything about it," Ultra-Boy mumbled.

Troia raised an eyebrow. "You're part of Cosmic Boy's 'wrap-the-defenceless-human-in-cotton-wool' brigade?"

"I'm not saying she's useless," Ultra-Boy clarified hurriedly. "I'm sure if she took over piloting or strategizing or something, it could free up more Legionnaires. But Cos reckons she's got a death wish and won't let her contribute until she's no longer a danger to herself."

"So do you have a plan to deal with Huntress?" Troia asked, putting on an air of innocence.

Ultra-Boy shrugged. "Pin her to a wall until she surrenders."

Troia suppressed a sigh. "Do you need your flight ring?" she asked instead.

"It's a little advantage that will let me end it quicker, less chance of her getting hurt."

Troia nodded slowly "You realize that by keeping it, you're letting Huntress use whatever tech she might have," she warned.

Ultra-Boy raised an eyebrow. "Should be fine, unless she pulls a flight ring. Cos would be furious."

* * *

"I don't see how anyone could expect those nunchuks to do anything," Cosmic Boy sneered. "And that headpiece is just a party trick."

"So whatever she pulls out, you're fine with it," Troia confirmed.

"Unless she's stolen one of the flight rings."

* * *

Nightwing leant against the wall in the Legion's training room. About two dozen Legionnaires had turned up to watch, most looking a little anxious. Triplicate Girl, conversely, had split herself, and looked eager to watch the fight from three different angles.

Red Hood and Huntress approached him. "Probably shouldn't feel so nervous," she muttered.

Red Hood barked with laughter. "Go make your granddads proud."

Nightwing smirked. "You had the guts to stand up for yourself. I'm already pretty proud."

"Combatants, take your marks!" Troia yelled. Huntress and Ultra-Boy strode up to opposite sides of the room. "No injuries that take more than two days to heal," Troia reminded them. "Are you ready?"

Huntress tapped her glove. The cowl slid up and over her face, and following a second tap, a series of panels across her torso withdrew to reveal a pair of bandoliers crossing her chest. "Ready," she announced.

"Ready," Ultra-Boy echoed.

"Begin!"

Ultra-Boy blurred slightly, and Huntress threw what looked like a grenade at him. It stuck, and he slowed down as the grenade issued smoke. Huntress was moving. She flipped over Ultra-Boy and slapped another smoke grenade on his back. The Legionnaire twisted, trying both to remove the grenades and grab Huntress as she danced out of reach. Her hands darted in and out of her bandoliers, constructing some gizmo. The gadget hummed, Ultra-Boy started coughing, and he passed out. The Bat knelt, slapped restraints on him, and rose. "Anyone else?" she challenged.


	18. Giving Thanks

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 18 Giving Thanks**

_Thursday 27_ _th_ _November 2014_

Damian balanced the knife between his fingers, eyes locked on his prey. He raised the knife, preparing to throw it, just as the target took flight. The blade flew.

There was a sickening _thunk_.

"Master Jason, Master Damian, that is not what I meant when I asked you to prepare the potatoes," Alfred chided, distracted.

Damian pouted at the pile of washed and peeled spuds they had to chop.

This morning, by un-argued agreement, Alfred was in charge. They were in the large kitchen, directly below and connected by dumbwaiter to the Formal Dining Room. This was different to the Luncheon Kitchen, next to the Minor Dining Room, that they usually used. But the Luncheon Kitchen was too small for eight people to work together.

Dick was preparing green bean casserole, while Bruce and Alfred tackled the giant ham and most massive turkey any of them had ever seen. Tim and the girls had dessert; Tim doing the sweet potato and marshmallow dish, Helena making short crust pastry for pie crusts, and Cass making fillings. This left Damian and Jason to handle potatoes for mashing and baking, squash, corn, carrots and peas. Luckily, Alfred's cranberry preserve was made months in advance.

"I'm kinda surprised we don't have to go to the parade party," Helena commented, referring to the very exclusive after-party that followed Gotham's version of the Macy's parade at sundown.

"Did you want to go?" Bruce asked cautiously. The tone of his voice suggested he'd done something he may now be forced to regret.

"No, not really, but Dad always had trouble trying to get us excused," Helena explained absently.

"I said that, as it was less than a month since I took in a new ward, we would prefer a more private gathering" Bruce replied, just a little relieved.

"Now that's something to be thankful for," Dick said fervently. "I'd rather pull out my teeth than go to that, eh, Jason?"

"Bunch of privileged bastards using giving thanks as an excuse to show off," Jason grunted.

Damian paused in his chopping. "If you are really that averse to high society functions, I can think of a few ways to be excused. Unless you're on blood thinners?"

Bruce sighed. "They do have their uses, Dami, and repeatedly missing parties because you've just knocked each other's teeth out will only raise suspicions."

"Also, it would make it far too hard to keep Wayne Enterprises in its position if you destroy our reputation," Tim cut in.

"Spoilsport," Jason grumbled.

There was peace for a minute. Dick couldn't take it.

"Helena? Where did you learn to make pastry?"

Helena carefully lifted the sheet of short crust and laid it over the tin.

"Our Alfred taught me," she answered. "Alfred Beagle. He was…a little rotund. Used to be an actor. He taught us everything about disguises." She poured baking beans into the pastry dish and put it in the oven, setting one of over a dozen timers. When she turned back, her eyes were moist. "I miss him. He used to keep me busy in the kitchen when Mom and Dad were on the streets. I think he hoped I'd stay in, but…"

Bruce went over and hugged her. "We know," he said simply.

Helena gently disentangled herself and looked over at Alfred, reading the certain tenseness in his body. She laid a hand on his arm and gave him a sad smile. "I'd miss you, too, if I lost you." Alfred smiled back warmly, and she changed the subject. "I've never made an apple pie with blackberries before."

"It's Mom's recipe," Dick said defensively.

"I'll be sure to try it," Helena replied hurriedly.

"Mother has a favourite pie," Damian interrupted. "But it's a savoury pie."

"Not that foul one made with chicken livers?" Bruce asked.

"Yes, but she said you liked it," Damian answered, brow furrowing.

Bruce flushed slightly. "I didn't want to tell her I found her favourite dish disgusting, and then, well, it would have been petty."

"'You're insane, your plans are horrific, and, by the way, your pie stinks'," Jason smirked.

"Todd, you-" growled Damian.

"Please don't fight," Bruce begged.

* * *

The food weighed down the table. This was one of the few meals Alfred was most determinedly not allowed to have alone, and as always on these occasions, he looked a little awkward.

Bruce rose, but didn't hit a wineglass with a fork. It wasn't exactly a secret that he was no good at speeches. It was Superman's job at the Justice League, and Wayne Enterprises had a whole PR department to write Brucie's speeches. So he jumped straight in.

"It's been a big year," he said. "A lot happened. But we're all here. We're together. And that's what I'm thankful for."


	19. Endgame

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 19 Endgame**

_Elsewhen_

"May have gone just a little overboard," Nightwing gently chided Huntress. "The 'anyone else' comment was classic, but I think proceeding to threaten the entire Legion with sound defeat, imprisonment in a secret underground bunker and replacement with such sophisticated holograms the Security Council wouldn't notice for a month, was a little too far."

"But I could do it," Huntress complained.

Nightwing sighed. "First, metas tend to get a little antsy around us when we start showing off, and second, you don't want to give them a warning they could use against you if you ever have to do that."

Red Hood snickered. "After that little performance, they'd have to be completely daft to underestimate her, so it wouldn't really matter either way."

"Now they know about the underground bunker," Nightwing pointed out. "And the holograms."

"Ah, I was kind of bluffing about those bits," Huntress muttered. "I've got preparations for if I needed to do that, but the bunker's still just a cave and the holograms would be reprogrammed movie 'grams."

"Oh, this one's definitely your girl," Arsenal chuckled, entering the room. "And you don't need to worry so; Cos is convinced it was a fluke, or Ultra-Boy threw the fight, or something."

"How did you do it?" Red Hood asked curiously.

Huntress shrugged. "It was actually quite easy. First I had to stop him from using superspeed. If Troia got the ring off him I could have just flitted around the ceiling, but I had to use sleep-smoke grenades. Then, his powers are vulnerable to a certain type of radiation – that's quite common, actually. I just assembled my radiation emitter, added the right program, and it shut down his invulnerability and he succumbed to the sleep-smoke."

"So, your radiation emitter-" Nightwing started.

"Has got program chips for dozens of specific variations," Huntress confirmed. "Even Kryptonite radiation."

"You've isolated the specific radiation emitted by Kryptonite?" Arsenal whistled.

Huntress hesitated. "Actually, Lex Luthor did. Experimenting with that caused a fatal accident. WayneTech acquired the research, and the family's been sitting on it ever since."

"You lot just keep getting scarier," Arsenal muttered. "Now you've had a millennium to collect information."

"Have you had any contact with the family since you joined up with the Legion?" Nightwing asked. "Ignore Arsenal; that's what we always do."

The archer grumbled, but it was true.

Huntress shook her head. "We arranged for a couple of dead-drops so that whoever ended up here could report back." She paused. "We had a fair few pieces of unfinished business I was able to wrap up, and contacting you was the last. When I went for my last drop, there was a note waiting for me. I've done enough. It's time for me to live."

"And you can't live here?" Arsenal asked.

Huntress smiled sadly. "Gilded cage, Arsenal."

"What do you want?" Nightwing asked bluntly.

"I want to be part of the family again," she replied, equally bluntly. "It's not safe at this time, so I want to go with you."

Nightwing locked eyes with Red Hood, reading the surprise and confusion. He was about to twitch his eyebrows into a request for his brother's opinion, when raised voices from next door became audible.

"Arsenal, could you go check that out, please?" he asked. "We need a…family discussion."

"Sure," Arsenal murmured. He left.

"Rose, please explain," Nightwing asked.

She sighed. "I can't cope on my own any more, and it's not safe for me to go home. I mean, look how Cos is reacting. They won't let me do my job, and probably won't let me leave."

"But you think they'll let you run off into the past?" Red Hood asked.

"They won't have a choice," Huntress shrugged. "I know how to use all of Brainy's time travel stuff – that's how I was able to send the message and signalling device. And there's a program automatically set to take us back to when the signal was activated. We can be gone before they have a chance to stop us."

"We've had enough lectures from Rip Hunter about timeline integrity," Nightwing protested. "Won't you cause problems?"

"You already have resident time travellers," Huntress pointed out. "Yeah, I'll probably have a long chat with Professor Hunter about what I can and can't do, but my presence won't cause all of reality to fracture."

"What would you do in our time?" Nightwing queried.

"I'd like to join Batman Inc again," she shrugged. "It's what I know best."

"She's got the skills," Red Hood said. "And if she's telling the truth…"

He trailed off, and locked onto Nightwing's motions. It was true; and he hadn't detected a lie. And there was a…fire in her eye that spoke of a sister-in-arms.

Nightwing twitched his lip approvingly. Red Hood nodded fractionally. Good. They both thought she would be a valuable addition. Then Nightwing frowned. He didn't exactly have the authority to offer her a place. He blanked, and set his eyebrows attentively, as though awaiting an order. Red Hood also frowned, then shrugged, and nodded.

"Okay, you can come home," Nightwing announced. "Beyond that, it's up to Bruce."


	20. Situations Abound

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 20 Situations Abound**

_Friday, 12_ _th_ _December 2014_

"M'Gann, have you poisoned the cookie dough, or are they just burning?" Tim asked.

Steph snickered.

"She's getting better," Raven called out. "It's just desserts she still needs to work on."

"When you said 'come along to the Titans' meeting, it'll be fun', I thought you meant taking out metas with a side of world-saving, not moaning about baking," Steph smirked.

"Evil, beware; we have waffles," Raven deadpanned. "Cream or syrup?"

"Both?" Steph said hopefully.

"You can only have both if you're willing to get it thrown at you," Kon answered from the kitchen.

"I'll risk it," Steph decided, and promptly had to snatch the flying plate from the air. It had left a sticky trail behind.

"You better clean that up before it gets trod all over the tower," Tim commented.

"You worry like an old woman," Kon complained.

"Whatever," Tim dismissed. "Whose turn is it to pick the movie?"

"Mine," said M'gann, appearing with a tray of cookies burnt to a cinder. "There's this one called Mars Needs Moms."

"Not sure that will end well," Cassie murmured.

"Can't be much worse than when Jason convinced Dami Kung Fu Panda would be educational," Tim grinned.

* * *

" _Titans Tower, this is the Watchtower. We have an emergency situation; please respond._ "

Tim vaulted the couch to the Tower's comm system. "Titans Tower, Red Robin speaking," he said, sticking his mask back over his eyes before activating the visual link. He was pretty sure Steph was putting up her hood and mask. "What's the situation?"

" _Multiple locations, multiple incidents,_ " came Bruce's growl. " _Red Robin, come up here to m-c. Spoiler, return to Gotham. Titans on standby._ "

"Understood. I'll be there directly," Red Robin said. "Titans, scramble. Spoiler, with me." He jabbed the comm in his ear as he headed for the teleport. "What's the Gotham situation?"

" _Joker,_ " Batman replied. " _Batgirl's team are keeping it under control, but I sent Robin as backup. Harley snatched him. Hood, Nightwing and his friends have gone missing. Hopefully just off-grid._ "

"Right." They arrived at the teleport. Red Robin quickly selected a default, nodded to Spoiler, and beamed off to the Watchtower.

He sprinted through the corridors towards the main control room. "Situation?" he asked Batman, who was monitoring the computers.

"Superman and Supergirl are taking on Luthor in Metropolis; the Marvel family are dealing with Sivana in Fawcett; Flash has Grodd in Keystone; Aquaman is with Ocean Master in Atlantic City; Wonder Woman went to DC for Cheetah; most of the Justice Society are containing Vandal Savage in New York; Green Arrow and Speedy have Faust in Star City; the Lanterns cornered Sinestro in Coast City, and Red Tornado and Vixen have Silver Banshee in Philadelphia," Batman reeled off. "You know about Gotham. We also have the Superior Five in Vegas, Killer Frost in New Orleans, Weather Wizard in Central, Giganta in Chicago, and the Brotherhood of Evil in Boston. The Outsiders are already in the field elsewhere."

"Go back up GL-point-one in Coast," Red Robin instructed. Technically Hal's designation was Green Lantern 2814.1, but all of the Earth-based Lanterns were 2814. Red Robin hit the all-channels as Batman left. "Lanterns two, three, four, go to Vegas, take out the Five." There was a beep, and he swallowed a curse at the new threat. "Titans, 'Frisco, Deathstroke. Raven, Cyborg, you have the lead. Superboy, Wonder Girl, Chicago, Giganta. Hawks, you active?"

" _We are,_ " came Hawkman's gruff voice. " _Where are we needed?"_

"New Orleans, Killer Frost," Red Robin decided. He frowned, trying to work out how to redistribute their forces to cover the last two incidents. He could…no, he shouldn't…maybe…

" _Watchtower, this is the Batcave, Nightwing speaking. What's the situation?_ "

"Nightwing? Where the- Are the others there? Hood and your teammates?"

" _Yeah; you need us?_ "

"Hood, you're with Batgirl in Gotham, it's Joker. Flash, Arsenal, Central City, Weather Wizard. Nightwing, Troia, Tempest, Boston, Brotherhood of Evil."

" _Got it. We're on our way. Hood, take her with you. Got a call name?"_

" _I'll go by Shadow._ "

"Nightwing, are you fielding an unknown?" Red Robin queried.

" _Trust me on this, Li'l Bird,_ " Nightwing assured him.

Red Robin hesitated. Nightwing outranked him, but as mission controller, he had pull.

Who was he kidding? He'd _always_ trust Nightwing.

"It's on you, eff-bee-wuh. Now scramble."


	21. Departure

* * *

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 21 Departure**

_Elsewhen_

"You're just too stuck-up to realise the best asset you could ever have by your side-"

"You're too reckless to look after your vulnerable little friends-"

"They're not vulnerable!"

Troia glared at Cosmic Boy. The Braalian folded his arms.

"You're just humouring them," he said. "They're not here; you can admit it. You're letting them play at your game. How much do they hold you back?"

"Hold us back? They're the best we could possibly have helping us. Don't you get it?" Troia shook her head incredulously. "Most of the time they're pushing _us_."

"Look, I know how all this works," Cosmic Boy snapped. "What's the use in fielding teammates who don't have flight, or strength, or speed, or mental powers, or _anything_?"

"Powers aren't worth anything without the knowledge to use them or the drive to do the right thing," Troia retorted. "Guys like Batman and Nightwing, and your girl Rose, they keep us grounded. Probably because they have to work five times harder than us."

"Okay," Cosmic Boy said slowly. "Okay, well I can write a letter of recommendation to get Rose into the Science Police. That should be safe for her."

"Seriously, do you have a brain in that skull of yours?" Troia exclaimed. "She took down Ultra-Boy, one of your powerhouses, in about five seconds. She doesn't need to be kept safe!"

"That was a fluke!" Cosmic Boy yelled back. "Or, I don't know, Jo threw the contest."

"I didn't," Ultra-Boy interrupted. He looked at Troia. "How the hell did she do that?"

Troia shrugged. "Not sure, but she probably had that planned within a few weeks of meeting you. Her people always deal with the takedown protocols."

"Takedown protocols," Ultra-Boy repeated blankly.

"The kind you're grateful for when you get mind-whammied, and have to be brought down before you do any serious damage," Troia said darkly. She left unsaid the other reason; in case someone _turned_.

"What do you mean, _her people_?" Saturn Girl asked, frowning.

Troia frowned internally. Huntress had said the Bats were underground, but also that she'd laid the framework for if they were ever revealed. But-

"Bats. Her people are the Bats," Arsenal butted in, having arrived unnoticed during the…discussion, and taking away the dilemma.

"Batman Incorporated hasn't been around for centuries," Cosmic Boy scoffed, but some of the gathered Legionnaires didn't look so sure.

Troia laughed. "Yeah, which started _after_ B did," she pointed out.

Brainiac 5 tilted his head slightly. "As I recall, the Bats had a turbulent history, finally folding after one of them lost her mind."

Troia shrugged. "Apparently they went underground. They never played well with others anyway."

"If half the stories are true, and Rose is a Bat, we could be in trouble," Brainiac warned. "These guys were brutal and utterly merciless."

"Oh, for-" Troia started. "They're driven, but hardly merciless. They just don't go easy on criminals. And they don't kill."

"Please," Cosmic Boy scoffed. "Brainy, not everyone's as intellectually virtuous as you. It's just stories, exaggerations." He fixed Troia with a stern look. "People covering for their friends. Normal, powerless humans can't do anything like that."

Arsenal whistled. "No wonder Rose is so desperate to come back with us."

"What?" a dozen people chorused.

"That's preposterous," Cosmic Boy protested.

"That's seriously dangerous," Brainiac frowned.

Flash and Tempest kept quiet. This was a serious enough issue to let Troia, Nightwing's unofficial deputy, make the first move.

"What did Nightwing say?" she asked.

Arsenal shrugged. "They're discussing it, but I think he'll probably let her talk to B, give him the final say."

"She's that determined to get some action?" Ultra-Boy interrupted.

Arsenal shrugged again. "You saw her in action. You really think she can stand this gilded cage you've put her in?"

"We're trying to keep her safe, you fool!" Cosmic Boy argued.

"I don't want to be kept safe. I want to live."

Rose appeared, flanked by Nightwing and Red Hood. She had a large bag over her shoulder, obviously ready to leave. Arsenal smirked, and mouthed 'called it'.

"The time beacon's set to bounce use back the same amount of time as you went last time," Rose explained. "I avoided that bringing you here with a computer override, but if you're not too desperate to get those hours back…"

"We'll be fine," Nightwing dismissed. "Got everything?"

Rose picked up the family history book she'd left on the coffee table. "Yeah," she answered. "Yeah, I'm ready." She produced the beacon. "Everyone hold tight to each other." As Nightwing took her elbow, she looked up at the Legion, opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it, and smiled sadly. Then, she hit the button.


	22. Conflict

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 22 Conflict**

_Friday 12_ _th_ _December 2014_

Batgirl hated Joker. Arguably more than Red Hood did; they both had more than reason enough. She hated him gunning for her. More, she hated him gunning for her kin. Most of all, she hated having to leave her kin in his 'care', because his schemes threatened civilians.

She wasn't having a good evening.

The bomb she was defusing was clumsy, old-fashioned and amateur-ish, but in true Joker style, all the wires were the red wire. She cut the wire by the timer, opened the box with the dynamite, and removed the explosives. Beneath was a diagram with her next target.

The crime clowns' strategy was both simple and ingenious. Four bombs had appeared in four different news studios. Batgirl, Black Canary and Huntress split up, Nightwing and Red Hood failed to respond, and Robin came down. Each bomb had a location for the next bomb. Different trails. Robin was snatched on his. Spoiler was called in as a replacement, because the ticking bombs weren't leaving time for a rescue. Robin was on his own.

The next bomb was, funnily enough, in the chemistry classroom Tim had been abducted from three months ago. Unlikely to be a coincidence. Batgirl made a mental note to run the bomb locations against their files later, but there wasn't time now.

The comm crackled. " _Batgirl? I'm backing you up, and I got a friendly to help us. What do you need?_ "

"Red Hood? Thank goodness." Batgirl felt her breath whoosh out in relief. "Still in the cave?"

" _Yeah. Want me to grab something?_ "

"Take a car and track Robin's tracer," she instructed. "Joker nabbed him, so you might want your rifle. And keep an eye on your friendly; you know B's rules."

To wit: unknowns and metas are not welcome, unless it's an emergency. Then, you better vouch for 'em, and have a good reason.

" _Understood,_ " Red Hood replied. " _Can we have a sound-off and report?_ "

"We're on a treasure hunt for bombs," Batgirl reported. "I'm in Gotham Heights."

" _Black Canary. Chinatown._ "

" _Huntress. I'm covering the Narrows._ "

" _Spoiler. By the docks, in case there's a single shipping container that doesn't have a damn bomb in it._ "

" _Uh, I'm Shadow, and I'm with Red Hood._ "

Batgirl arrived at the school and sprinted for the classroom. "Nice to have backup. Thanks, Shadow," she grunted, shouldering open the emergency exit. "I'd say nice to meet you, but in the circumstances…"

" _Not the best. Gotcha._ " The new girl sounded more confident after her tentative introduction. " _We can swap stories later. Oh, and Nightwing also spoke for me._ "

Batgirl froze for a moment, before getting back to her bomb. If Nightwing gave Shadow the pass, that was good enough for her.

* * *

Huntress – Rose – _Shadow_ was uncomfortably aware that the long, vaguely pointy object in her lap was a deadly weapon. Red Hood had very briefly explained that he wasn't usually allowed his rifle, but when one of the family was in imminent peril, Batman tended to let the rules slide a little. Fair enough, but she was a little queasy about holding the thing while Hood drove.

She was also trying to tamp down the flood of emotions she was feeling. She was _nightside_ again, after far too long, and she had a chance to prove herself, and _she was actually working with the first generation of Bats,_ and…

And their most fearsome foe was loose, one of their own had been taken, and the rescue squad consisted of her (quite frankly, she was out of practise, out of her time, and not necessarily much help and one of the more infamously unstable Bats.

A rather strange mixture of heart-pounding exhilaration, and mind-numbing terror.

Focus, girl. Focus.

"We're here," Hood grunted, stopping the Batmobile. He pulled the device that apparently was tracking Robin from the dashboard, reclaimed his rifle, and get out. Shadow followed him.

"This is the Central Gotham College," Hood explained in an undertone. "Specializes in sciences. Also does a nice Criminology and Forensics course. Not promising, considering Joker's habit of concocting nasty tortures…"

"And Robin's in there," Shadow checked.

"His comm is," Hood corrected. "Hopefully he's there too, or we'll be back to square one."

"No implants?" Shadow frowned. She'd thought implants of key tech was common within a decade and a half.

"Red Robin's been talking about that kind of stuff, but it's still in development. Now quiet," Hood hissed.

Shadow followed him. The building was a maze of corridors, but Hood's gizmo had a map showing where the comm was. As they approached, Hood unholstered one of his guns, and Shadow drew her nunchuks.

They reached the room, and burst in. The only occupant was Robin.

He wasn't in a good way.


	23. Pain and Payback

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 23 Pain and Payback**

_Friday, 12_ _th_ _December 2014_

Red Hood stood guard. The Dick/Tim 'proper Robin' voice in his head was full of righteous outrage, which brought his vicious impulse, full of the desire to kill whoever did this, into conflict with his major conscience, which insisted he look after Robin first. As usual, the commanding growl of Bruce's voice as formed by his major conscience won out, but the vicious snarl sounded even more like Damian than usual as it suggested different ways to 'accidentally' maim the creep who tortured Robin.

Robin was sweating and panting. His skin looked redder than normal. His belt, gloves, boots and cape had been removed, but it looked like he'd pulled open his shirt himself. Most worryingly, there was a metal _thing_ stuck to his skull.

Shadow, as Rose was calling herself, had removed her own glove to rest her hand on his forehead, then start to gently examine the device. "I think I know what this is," she murmured. "Robin. Do you feel hot, or cold?"

"Hot," the boy moaned. "So…hot."

"Okay, okay," Shadow said quickly. "Listen. Your brain is being tricked into thinking you're hot, which is why you're sweating, but you're actually getting dangerously cold. I don't want to risk removing this thing here, so we're going to have to bundle you up."

"You know what's going on?" Red hood asked.

"I'm pretty sure," Shadow nodded. She quickly refastened Robin's shirt and replaced his boots and gloves, before wrapping him first in his own cape, and then hers. "I need to borrow your jacket. The device is lodged in his brain, so I'd rather have some scans before we start yanking it out, but he needs to warm up now."

Hood shrugged off his jacket. "Batgirl? We've retrieved robin. Shadow's going to take him back to the cave for medical treatment. I'll program the car for her. I'm gonna stay and see who I can flush out of the woodwork."

" _Good work,"_ Batgirl replied. _"I seem to have run out of bombs, so I'll r-v with you. Huntress, Canary, Spoiler, you do the same when you can."_

Hood changed the comm channel. "A, Robin's coming in. He's suffering from severe heat loss. New girl's bringing him in; she says she knows what's going on. Get the doc, and prepare for some brain scans."

" _Very good,"_ Alfred replied. _"I shall also heat the med bay and prepare some hot soup._ "

"Thanks, A," Hood nodded. He checked on Shadow, who now had Robin bundled in her arms. He picked up his rifle, and led the way out.

Returning to the Batmobile, he plugged in the tracking computer, selected the autopilot option for return to base, and cranked the heat up. Shadow settled Robin in the passenger seat, and took the driver's as Hood backed out.

"Look after him, yeah?" Hood asked.

"If I'm right, he'll be fine, just so long as we keep him warm until we can remove the device," Shadow said confidently. "You worry about the bad guys."

' _Bring them in,'_ the Bruce-conscience in Hood's mind growled as the Batmobile headed off. _'Bring them in, so they know this. WILL. NOT. Be tolerated.'_

' _Make them pay,'_ the viciousness hissed.

"I was planning on it," Hood muttered to himself. He tried to avoid directly addressing his voices, but he was alone, and seriously annoyed, so he could be forgiven for indulging himself for once.

' _Don't lose control,'_ Dick/Tim reminded him.

Hood began sweeping the building, checking each room in turn, his rifle going before him.

' _By the book,'_ Bruce insisted. _'We don't let him break us.'_

The argument in his brain continued. Hood wanted to kill joker, and there was a chance he could get away with it if he made it look like an accident, but Bruce would be disappointed.

Besides, Robin _needed_ to break out of the cycle of death and retribution the League of Shadows perpetuated.

" _Hood, we've identified movement,_ " Batgirl said over the comm. _"Hold your position."_

"Understood," Hood growled. He ducked into a corner, rifle ready to fire if an unfriendly stumbled on him, and felt strangely relieved. It was easier to keep the homicidal impulses under control in company.

The first person around his corner was a blonde in black leather, and Hood nearly fired a warning shot before recognizing Black Canary. Batgirl was behind her, carrying a secondary prototype microcomputer. "This way," she whispered, taking the lead. "When we arrive, Canary will scream. Hood, limb shots on anyone still standing. Then the two of you finish sweeping."

When they arrived, Hood felt very grateful for the padding in his helmet. The scream wasn't directed at him, and was partially blocked, but it still made his ears ring. Batgirl was grimacing through hands clamped over her ears.

It was effective, though. Hood probably didn't need to shoot Joker in the leg.

He did it anyway.


	24. De-brief

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 24 De-brief**

_Friday, 12_ _th_ _December 2014_

Nightwing was waiting in the main cave, a couple of screens showing various of their allies as they came for debrief. He and Red Robin had come home as soon as they could, but Black Bat and the Outsiders were still away. Batman was watching over Robin wile Shadow and Leslie worked on him.

"Has anyone spilled the beans on what happened yet?" he asked the crowd of weary heroes.

" _Giganta says it was Luthor's idea, but everyone else either isn't talking or is still unconscious,"_ Wonder Girl spoke up. _"Got nothing from your prisoners?"_

"Hood managed to nick Joker's femoral artery," Nightwing shrugged. "He's _very_ out. Harley's raving. The scientists were just threatened into doing what they were told."

" _What exactly did they do to Robin?"_ Superman asked.

"I'm not entirely-" Nightwing started."

It was a primitive preoptic thermo-stimulator," Shadow announced, coming out of the med-bay. "It tapped into the bit of the brain that regulates temperature and heated it up. Tricked his body into thinking he was too hot, and so he started shucking heat. Could have been a nasty case of hypothermia."

"Frost bite?" Nightwing asked.

"No, 'cause that's caused by the body response to cold, not just actual cold," Shadow shrugged.

" _Sorry, but…who are you?"_ Hal Jordan asked.

"B Inc, early 31st century." Shadow shrugged again, but Nightwing could read the signs of false bravado. Bats don't back down from those with power, but this Bat had been forced to live as the Legion's _pet_ or something, and that would take time to wear off. She was just acting the part.

" _How did someone from the 31_ _st_ _century get here?"_ Green arrow asked sceptically. _"And you just_ _ **happened**_ _to know what the thing on Robin was?"_

"Why I'm here is a matter I must discuss with Batman," Shadow responded curtly. "And I happen to be interested in abuses of medical technology. Preoptic cryo-stimulators were used to cause weight loss, until there was a scandal where several people died due to leaving them in too long. There was a lot of regulation introduced, but it was by-and-large redundant because no-one really wanted to use them anymore."

"Stick wires in your brain to lose weight? Why would anyone want to do it in the first place?" Spoiler asked.

"First, it was a fad, and second, because liposuction leaves such unsightly scars." Shadow pulled a derisive face. "At least with a preoptic cryo-stimulator any scars are hidden under the hair."

" _Rose?!"_ Supergirl exclaimed, coming into the conference room and seeing the audience. _"What are you doing here? Cos got you running messenger girl now or something?"_

"Hey, Kara," Shadow replied, looking a little awkward. Nightwing mentally kicked himself; he'd forgotten Supergirl tended to hang out with the legion. But then…

"Supergirl? Does that mean you know about…?" He made a vague gesture at Shadow's suit, a little lost for words.

" _Rose's crazy death-wish? Yeah, Cos has been trying to break her of it for years,"_ Supergirl answered.

"Not a death wish, training. B Inc?" Shadow asked, half-resigned. Both girls got a look, as though pieces of a puzzle fell into place. "No-one ever told you my surname, did they?"

" _No,_ " Supergirl said slowly. " _I didn't think there was a B Inc?"_

"Underground," Shadow said awkwardly. "I kinda wondered what your problem was with me when you're fine with these guys."

" _I suppose Cos must have been driving you crazy,"_ Supergirl winced.

Shadow snorted. "I took out Ultra-Boy, Jo Nah himself, in about seven seconds, and Cos' immediate response was that Jo must have thrown the contest."

" _He does have a sort of obsession with powers,_ " Supergirl nodded.

" _Yeah, he accused me of 'humouring' my 'vulnerable little friends' by 'letting them play at our game',"_ Troia grumbled. " _Didn't listen to a word I said."_

"Ah, sorry, I'm a little lost," Red Robin interrupted. "Can someone explain this?"

"It's fairly simple," Nightwing told him. "Shadow here is our great-great-whatever-granddaughter, who got picked up by the Legion of Superheroes and benched. She figured enough was enough and wanted to come back with us."

"Back with you," Red Robin repeated. "This is to do with why the six of you went off-grid this evening, right?"

Shadow coughed. "Ah, I had expected Batman to activate the temporal beacon. Sorry."

"And you convinced Nightwing enough for him to vouch for fielding you in an emergency situation." They all looked over to see Batman had emerged at some point. "Superman, wrap up. Shadow, with me." He started to turn."

" _Before you go, is Robin okay?"_ Superman asked.

"He'll be fine," Batman dismissed, and Nightwing felt a slight tension he'd been holding in his shoulders vanish. Batman was still a little tense, so there was a complication, but apparently a minor one. "I have to deal with this."

He returned to the depths of the cave, Shadow trailing after him obediently.


	25. Shadows of Things to Come

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 25 Shadows of Things to Come**

_Saturday, 13_ _th_ _December 2014_

Cass was tired, but Bruce had left her a note. She was to go to bed and file her report in the morning, which mean she couldn't just sleep as much as she needed to, but had to get up.

Bruce had a habit of skimming through the data collected by the Watchtower's systems for anything that caught his attention, then sending the Outsiders to investigate. This time, it was a lab in India that was experimenting with Luthor's Everyman technology. Naturally, the mission went south.

At least Bruce had learnt not to send her on those sorts of missions when she had school the next day…

She entered the dining room, and stiffened. There was an unknown, dark-haired female eating breakfast. And Damian had a large bandage on his head. And everyone was looking a little banged up and tired. "What happened?" she asked. "Who this?"

"Um, hi?" the new girl said hesitantly. Cass focused on her, reading the truth, or otherwise, in her body. "My name's Rose Cain-Todd-Wayne." Truth. "I'm your great-whatever-granddaughter." Truth. "I saved Robin last night." Truth. "So Batman's given me a grace period here."…Half-truth.

"Luthor managed to convince a whole bunch of villains to stage simultaneous attacks all across the country," Tim explained. "The hope was we'd be sufficiently over-stretched that someone would get taken out. Dami got snatched by Joker, but that was the worst of it."

"He was fitted with a preoptic thermo-stimulator which tricked his body into near-freezing in an effort to cool down," Rose explained.

Damian looked up. "Joker threatened some scientists into putting a probe in my brain," he clarified.

"To make you freeze?" Cass asked.

"He wanted to see what would happen," Damian shrugged.

"And where does…Rose…fit in?"

"As I said, I'm your descendant," Rose shrugged. "I ended up with the Legion of Superheroes. That didn't work out, so I could either quit B Inc activity entirely, or go somewhere else. Here I am. I happened to recognize the preo- the brain probe." She hastily changed the last bit, apparently realizing the term meant nothing. "I also helped your doctor remove it."

"She left a time beacon, and Jason and I ended up activating it last night," Dick added. "It's a long story; you can read our report."

"Bruce, you were going to decide if she could stay and join our B Inc?" Jason prompted.

"I've sent a message to Rip Hunter; he'll brief Rose on adjusting to life in a different time period," Bruce announced. "Assuming he passes her, I'll give her a B Inc assignment."

"We have a lot of operatives here in Gotham already," Tim said dubiously. "Plus the media's still in circles over Helena, and it'll be a nightmare trying to slip her into the records, _especially_ coinciding with another street operative appearing."

"Nightsider," Rose corrected softly. "It'd be weird for me to suddenly be with you guys all the time. Besides, I'm not exactly a Gothamite. I'll be fine wherever you want to send me."

"Are you sure?" Dick asked.

She nodded slowly. "I've grown up with you guys as larger than life figures of legend. It'll be hard enough without being around you all the time." She tilted her head in thought, "I could do with a better name than Shadow. And I'll probably need a new suit; Hunter'll want mine put away."

"Philippines," Cass said abruptly. She locked her eyes on Bruce. "You promised. Next agent, the Philippines."

"Isn't that Dark Angel territory?" Rose frowned.

Cass looked at Bruce. Bruce looked at Rose. More glances were exchanged around the table. "We don't have a 'Dark Angel'," Tim said succinctly.

"You sure? I mean, her commissioning is unrecorded, presumably in the burnt section-" Cass frowned, and Rose produced a book, flipping it open. Indeed, there was a section of copies of burnt paper. Rose flicked past them. "See, uh, she's mentioned here, about 25, 26 years still to come. See. 'At the age of twenty-one, Catherine Martha Todd-Wayne took the name Red Bat and joined Dark Angel in Cebu, the Philippines, for nearly a year before she retired.'"

"I'm gonna have a kid?" Jason exclaimed. "In four years' time, I'm gonna have a daughter? A little girl?"

"That is probably the sort of thing Hunter would counsel you to not say," Bruce sighed.

"Ah, sounds like maybe you are Dark Angel?" Tim interrupted. "If you're retiring in 25 years-"

"I was given the nickname by some victims I rescued," Cass interrupted. "Logical for Rose to take name."

"Alright," Bruce shrugged. "If Rip Hunter agrees, that's what we'll do."

"I'm gonna be a father?!" Jason continued. "In four years? This is – wow!"

"Don't tell him anything more," Bruce hissed.

"What? But- but- who's the mother?" Jason demanded. "I have to know!"

"Wouldn't it be better to find out for yourself?" Rose hedged. "You've got three years to find a wife."

"But – I'm gonna be a dad!"


	26. Titans Togther

**Jason and the Argonauts Chapter 26 Titans Together**

_Sunday, 14_ _th_ _December 2014_

"What did you say your niece will be called?"

Dick smiled. "Catherine Martha Todd-Wayne. Jason's in a tizzy, half thrilled he's going to have a kid, and half terrified that, well, he's going to have a kid. And Rose has caught on that she shouldn't talk too much about things that haven't happened yet, so he's going nuts trying to guess who the mother is."

Donna chuckled. "How's Bruce taking things?"

"He's bemused by Jason, but Rose? Well, he spent most of yesterday holed up with Cass, and I doubt her Outsiders debrief took anywhere near that long." Dick stared into his coffee cup. "Fact is, without Rose, Dami would have been in a lot more trouble. She knew to be careful with the stimulator until there were scans to guide it out, and she knew not to trust Dami's perception. If she hadn't been there, our little Demon Bird could have developed a serious case of hypothermia before we worked it out."

Donna took his hand. "Shook you up, didn't it?" she murmured. "Whirlwind trip to the next millennium, a mad night of attacks everywhere, then Joker nearly offs your baby brother."

"Again," Dick muttered. He ran a hand through his hair as, once again, he remembered the shockingly blunt message Bruce left him to tell him Jason was dead. "Last night's patrols were fine, nothing special, but…I hate the way everything turns upside down so quick."

"It doesn't always," Donna offered.

Dick took a deep breath. "Yeah, but it doesn't help when you're stuck in the middle of the bad times."

The door to the coffee shop jingled as two redheads entered. "Sorry we're late," Roy chirped while Wally bought the drinks. "Lian wouldn't settle down for Dinah and Ollie."

"She doing okay?" Donna asked. "She must be getting big. Started school?"

"Oh yeah, she's in kindergarten now," Roy smiled. "She's doing well. Bright as a button, making friends, it's great."

"Garth not here?" Wally asked, joining them. In addition to the coffee, he'd acquired a small mountain of pastries. Just the thing for a speedster constantly needing to refuel.

"He's got a few things to take care of underwater," Donna shrugged. "He should be along soon."

"We don't get together often enough," Wally said regretfully. "Barry's taking over my League duties now, and he seems to be trying to deal with all the normal stuff as well. Besides, we look identical. Bit tricky."

"That's easy," Dick said. "Swap your gold for crimson, call yourself Red Flash."

Roy and Donna both chuckled, while Wally made a face. "Given the way you Gothamites chop and changed names, of course you'd come up with that," he muttered.

"Works for us," Dick shrugged. "All of us 'round this table upgraded our names."

"Sorry, am I missing something?" Garth had arrived while they were distracted.

"Just the walking onomatopoeia trying to get Wally to stick a color in front of his name," Roy smirked, ducking as Dick tried to whack him upside the head. "You have any trouble?"

"Domestic disputes, nothing serious," Garth shrugged. "Good to be with you guys without a crisis going on."

"I may have an idea about that," Dick said hesitantly. "You know, the old Titans Tower is still viable. We could…clear it out, get it running again. Be a team again. Kori's all over the place right now, Gar's with the Doom Patrol and Vic and Rae are in 'Frisco, but us five…it'll be like old times, making a real difference."

"Assuming you guys bankroll it," Donna said. "I'd like that."

"We can sort something out," Dick grinned.

"What do we call ourselves?" Wally asked. "We can't be the Titans again."

"Justice Alliance?" Roy suggested. "Justice…fellowship? Federation? Uh…"

"Please, not another Justice group," Garth scoffed. "Why not return to myth?"

"I can't think of anything that has the same impact as 'Titans'," Donna frowned.

Dick considered it, running through the myths. Tim had been studying them a lot lately for some reason. "How about…Argonauts? A team some together to great deeds, heroes and fathers of heroes."

Donna cocked her head thoughtfully. "Argonauts. A bit obscure, but we could pull it off."

"We could pull off anything," Roy shrugged. "We've done it once, we can do it again."

"Helps to have the right start, but I agree," Wally nodded. "It'll be fun."

"Argonauts it is," Donna grinned. A sly look stole over her face. "Hey, Dick? Your niece is gonna be called Catherine Martha, right?"

"Mm," Dick agreed absently. "For Jay's mom and Bruce's, no doubt."

"Supergirl considers Martha Kent her surrogate grandmother." Donna winked. "Maybe she should join us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Back from mini-hiatus. I got distracted...There's a new story up. Marvel Red Team; Spiderman, Daredevil and Deadpool. Check it out, if that floats your boat. Or if you're willing to push the boat out and sees if it sinks or not.
> 
> Anyway, also up now, Black and Red, Ultimate Avenging Alliance and Ultimate Writing Adventure. Hopefully more soon.
> 
> Please comment and/or kudos.
> 
> Katara


	27. Epilogue 1: Showtime

**Jason and the Argonauts Epilogue 1 Showtime**

_Wednesday, 17_ _th_ _December 2014_

Bruce wasn't entirely sure why his younger children had sworn their oldest brother to secrecy. It was the only time he could think of when Jason, Tim and Damian had all agreed on something _not_ related to their night-time activities without Dick acting as a mediator. The Nightside, that was what they were calling it now. Dark Angel said it would catch on, and the boys seemed determined to make that happen _now._

He hadn't managed to coax the details of the school show out of any of the children, but he had successfully convinced them that he wouldn't hold whatever-it-was against them. They weren't convinced Dick wouldn't.

Speaking of, the young acrobat had to have figured out _something,_ because he was distractingly twitchy. Babs, on his other side, was practically sitting on him to keep him in his seat.

The curtain went up, and the _dancing_ started.

The middle school cohort were doing the Labors of Heracles, and the fights were…surprisingly plausible. By the time they'd reached the war with the Amazons, Bruce could see his children's influence.

He idly wondered if any of the children knew they'd just been taught advanced combat techniques.

This was followed by the Kindergarten's Perseus, and the Freshmen's Theseus, and no sign of any of his youngsters yet…

Oh. Oh, dear. Special performance of Oedipus.

Oh. Dear.

Cassandra did not have a terribly high opinion of cryptic messages. This was obvious, because even as she made the gestures for "son", "kill", "father", "marry" and "mother", she was 'muttering' "stupid idiots".

Jason and Helena had 'their' baby abandoned and Tim and Steph took him in. Oedipus was played by a very grouchy Damian, who really could pass for a blood relation of Helena's. Which he was, technically, but no-one was meant to know. Ah, well. If anyone noticed, Tim had the cover story in place.

Damian was _not_ impressed by Oedipus' decisions. Sure, going to Cass-the-Oracle for the knowledge of his true parentage was one thing, but running away when he was given the same prophecy Jason – his 'father' – received was not going to help.

The two boys met and had a 'whispered' conversation about self-fulfilling prophecies, until a technically beautiful fight resulted in Jason's 'death'. Jason had to _hate_ that, but he could hardly explain why. And now Cassandra was playing the Sphinx. She wasn't impressed by the riddle. She doubted _Cluemaster_ would be impressed by the riddle.

There were little squeaks coming from Dick's throat. His ability to suppress laughter was always dodgy when his guard was down, but there was nothing humorous about the story played out before them.

Not even Damian signing 'Mommy!' as he was awarded the hand in marriage of the Queen of Thebes. He did look _very_ like Helena.

Damian mimed a happy life, ruling Thebes and having children, followed by curses and eventually the whole story came out.

At the conclusion of the tale, Damian went into exile, and stabbed his eyes out.

' _Well that makes_ _ **everything**_ _better._ '

Dick lost it.

* * *

* * *

 

"Did you choreograph _every_ fight scene?" Bruce asked Cass. Post-show coffee and cookies was loud, and packed, and the boys had all vanished into the crowd. Cass had apparently, attracted a horde of admirers, and was now trying to hide.

"Tim spent ages with original texts," Cass nodded. "He was trying to get it all authentic."

"It was brilliant," Bruce smiled. "I want to get the DVD and send it to everyone, to show them how talented you are."

Cass ducked her head, abashed. Bruce was normally more restrained in his praise, but that was with the Mission, which came more naturally. Being Waynes, with school and publicity and 'normal' life was a lot more challenging for them.

"You should add subtitles to our section," Cass suggested. "Or it will go over everyone's heads."

Bruce's lip twitched. "I believe your… _eccentric_ narration style will more than recover any…any coolness or whatever you young people call it, that you may lose for partaking in interpretive dance."

Cass titled her head. "You are teasing."

"I know why you swore Dick to secrecy," Bruce rebuffed.

There was a sudden, loud burst of sound that silenced the crowd. Bruce looked over. Jason or Damian, he would have expected, but _Tim_ swearing at that volume? And continuing with a, frankly, excessive number of penis metaphors.

And Dick was laughing his head off, which meant _he_ was responsible (and explained the penises), and that was just going to rile Tim up even more…

He pushed through the crowd, hoping it wasn't too late.

Tim was beyond furious. Dick managed to regain control of his lungs. "You know it was actually Steph's idea," he said slyly.

"You are not pinning this one on me!" the blonde objected. "I was joking, and you knew it."

"Technically, this counts as sexual harassment of a minor," Tim hissed. "And it is not funny!"

The teen shoved his microcomputer at Bruce, who sighed at the image displayed.

"But it is punny," Dick smirked.

That was when Tim hit him.


	28. Epilogue 2: Oh What Fun

**Jason and the Argonauts Epilogue 2 Oh What Fun**

_Thursday, 25_ _th_ _December 2014_

"Did you have to wake me up _this_ early?" Tim groused. There was no school, Wayne Enterprises were closed, and even criminals preferred to be home with their families. It was a perfect time to catch up on sleep. _Not_ be woken at too-early o'clock by a hyperactive acrobat.

"It's _Christmas_ , Timmy, come one!" Dick crowed. "I know it's weird for you, but try? For Jason and Helena?"

Tim sighed. His parents hadn't really celebrated Christmas with him, and by the time he'd learnt how abnormal it was, he'd resigned himself to being different and getting on with life. He tended to forget things like how to celebrate holidays if he wasn't reminded, but that was just who he was.

Jason and Helena, however, had had good Christmases before they lost their families, and deserved happier memories.

Tim slipped out of bed and shooed Dick away so he could dress and go through his morning ablutions. He _did_ mark Christmas himself, but just in terms of societal obligations. And of course he took care of the Waynes' duties now as well as the Drakes'. Plus the common courtesy of sending cards, letters and gifts to everyone else in the community.

Apparently Oliver Queen had laughed himself silly the first time he received Christmas greetings from both fellow industrialist Bruce Wayne and fellow vigilante Batman.

And then there were the thank-you letters…

He _liked_ the feeling of usefulness from doing these things, but he was starting to understand the kind of pleasure Dick and everyone else got, simply from giving and receiving.

He'd probably muster a normal reaction to Christmas after a few more years. This year, he was close enough to pretend. For Jason and Helena.

Neither Cass nor Damian had been raised to observe Christmas, but Dick had done well at introducing them to all the nicest traditions. Bruce and Dick had continued their family traditions, integrating them for their new family. They hadn't ever had to celebrate a Christmas completely alone.

Bruce had built up a fire in the grate of one of the smaller living rooms, which was mostly full of tree and presents. Alfred, no doubt also woken by Dick, had brought out a tray of coffee and pastries, and once more was forbidden from abandoning them. Dick, playing at being Master of Ceremonies, sat next to the tree.

Tim took a seat, accepted a mug of coffee with a warm smile, and balanced a pad of paper on the arm of the sofa – to help him when writing everyone's thank-you letters for them. After a moment, Cass sat next to him.

Her eyes flickered over him, and she let a corner of her lip twitch while furrowing her brow slightly in a sad smile. She pressed lightly on his tense shoulder, and he let the awkwardness of his emotional confusion bleed out into the gentle touch.

Dick began distributing gifts, announcing the recipient and the giver, and waiting for paper to be peeled before moving on.

"To Tim, from me," Dick announced, handing the gift over. Tim raised an eyebrow, put down his pen and took it. Beneath the festive wrapping was an old shoebox, and inside that-

Tim slammed the box shut again, ears turning red as he flushed. "You're not serious," he spluttered. "This joke is _really too far_."

"Of course I'm not serious," Dick sniggered. "Here."

"What did he give you?" Damian asked as Tim started opening the new present.

"Something as inappropriate as the background he put on the micro," Tim said sharply. Then he softened. "New camera. Thanks."

"Eh, your old one was getting battered and I know you wish you had a little more time for photography," Dick shrugged. "Seriously. You need to give the constant work a rest sometime."

"Well I try, but that's usually when we have an Arkham incident," Tim snarked. He returned to the gift list he was compiling and added the camera, but not the… _personal item_.

"To Damian, from Tim and Cass," Dick announced, passing their youngest brother a large package. Tim exchanged a smirk with Cass, knowing what was coming. It had been her idea, but he'd done the work.

Damian pulled out the sleek black bow and quiver of matching arrows. He pulled on the string, and nodded with satisfaction. "I look forward to breaking it in. Thank you, Cass, Drake. Tim."

"I considered asking Ollie Queen for his designs, then remembered we have an image to maintain," Tim commented. "So I hacked their systems instead."

Damian smirked. "You will show me all the extras you have built in later."

"Gladly."

"To Jason, from Bruce," Dick called out, sliding the notably large package rather than picking it up.

"Clay pigeon launcher?" Jason chuckled after stripping the wrappings. "Finally accepting my weapon preferences?"

"I'm still not _fond_ of them," Bruce sighed. "I've also had your handguns and rifle licenced. Officially, the handguns are for self-protection, the rifle for sport."

Jason inclined his head. Considering Bruce's intense hatred for firearms, this was quite the olive branch.

They were down to the last few presents. Dick selected a large envelope. "To Helena, from Bruce."

Helena reached out for it, projecting nonchalance but with an undercurrent of – fear? Concern? Something that spoke of suppressed, unrealistic hopes from her father's counterpart.

"My adoption papers," she whispered.

Helena flung herself at Bruce for a hug.

The future was a terrifying place, but together, they could face it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wayne Family will return:  
> Bats of Narnia  
> Coming soon to a fanfic site near you.


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